2941
by xpenemue
Summary: Frodo finds himself transported into his uncle's stories, though they're not stories, And these are real lives on the line. (Thorin/Bilbo, Dwalin/Ori, Frodo/Nori)
1. Prologue

When first Frodo awoke in the back garden of Bagend, he heard singing. Loud, boisterous singing coming from inside the smial, paired with a small voice rising above it, shouting for another, or many others, to "put that down!" or "stop that!" In the young hobbit's opinion, it sounded like his Uncle Bilbo. Though it was certainly impossible, the voice was too young to be-

"That's what Bilbo Baggins hates!" The song wrapped up, and the hobbit in the garden felt himself freeze, Though he wasn't moving. It couldn't have been Uncle Bilbo, that was certain, he was too old. Bravely, the hobbit made his way to the door and slightly opened it. From where he stood, he could see the dwarves at the table, twelve of them, and Gandalf, not yet the White, laughing at an angry, golden-haired hobbit, who's arms were crossed.

Then came a pounding knock at the door and the dwarves grew silent, standing. Gandalf looked at each of them.

"He's here..." He announced, ominously in Frodo's opinion, and Frodo slipped into the smial completely. Gandalf and the dwarves moved to the door, Bilbo shuffling after, and Frodo hanging curiously behind. He could swear that he remembered this part from Bilbo's many tales. The 'he'. That was Thorin. Frodo was always heartbroken by the dwarf's fate in the tale, and he wondered if, somehow, he could fix it. Make it so Thorin and Fili and Kili and Balin and Ori and Oin didn't die the ways they did. A spark flared in his eyes as he cowered in the shadows. They wouldn't die.

The door opened at the epiphany and finally Gandalf spoke again.

"Ah," he said, "Thorin, nice of you to join us. We thought you would never make it." The dwarf was much larger than Bilbo ever described, but from this distance, it appeared as though his Uncle had exaggerated the intensity of his blue eyes.

"Yes. It seems I got lost on the way..." The dwarf paused and seemed to look over the crowd, gaze freezing on Bilbo. "Twice."

Frodo could see his Uncle shake under the intensity of the gaze. Because that was the only way to describe it.

Frodo now understood what his Uncle had meant when he said the dwarf was intense.


	2. Introductions

The dwarf's stare was invasive and completely not respectable. Bilbo couldn't help himself from shaking under it's pressure.

"Is this the halfling?" The dwarf inquired, taking a step closer to Bilbo, crowding into his personal space and filling the poor hobbit's vision so he could not escape the dwarf wherever he looked. "He looks more like a grocer than a burglar." But his eyes were the bluest things, pools of blue that told stories of misty mountains, deep caverns, and dark dungeons, Bilbo had ever seen.

"Hey!" A strong voice came from the shadows and immediately, all attention shifted to a small corner where a hobbit, who appeared to be about Bilbo's age, emerged. He looked like the invasive dwarf would if he were a hobbit, strong shoulders, battered from countless toils and hardships, black hair and blue eyes that seemed to contain the most magnificent story known to man. The stranger seemed eerie in himself, not because of the story he obviously carried, but because he was just that, a stranger. Bilbo knew most everyone in the Shire, so unless this unknown hobbit had come from Bree, this stranger confused him. Gandalf even seemed to tense at his sudden arrival. Perhaps the wizard could sense something.

"Are you having a grocer convention?" Thorin asked cheekily, taking a step back, away from Bilbo, who inwardly shook his head at missing the dwarf's presence. One of the larger dwarves, the first to arrive, (Dwalin, was it?) gave a soft sort of laugh at this, but the dark-haired stranger continued to stand as tall as he could, being a hobbit among dwarves.

"Has no one ever taught you any manners, Thorin Oakenshield? You should know better than to taunt a hobbit with a reputation like Mister Bilbo Baggins's." He snapped. If Thorin was bad, this hobbit was worse, with his false words, painting Bilbo to be a hero when he knew deeply that he wasn't nor could he ever be. Now more than ever Bilbo wanted to curl into a ball and pretend he wasn't here. That, however, was not something a respectable Baggins did, perhaps maybe a Took, but certainly not a Baggins, not when they had guests, uninvited as they were.

"And who are you to speak on his behalf?" At Thorin's words, something visibly shifted in the stranger's eyes. Silence overwhelmed the Company for a moment before the stranger spoke again. As if he had to think, as if he forgot who he was for a moment.

"Frodo B-Took. I'm his cousin." Cousin? Bilbo shook his head. He would have recognised him if he were a cousin, no matter how large the Tookish side of his family was. Or if he was from Bree.

"Go back to your home, then." Thorin said, turning, with a dismissing wave of his hand, "We have no need for two burglars." He then left toward the dining room. The other dwarves reluctantly followed, the one in the hat (Bofur?) patted Bilbo's shoulder on his way. Frodo smiled at him and followed after the dwarves.

"It seems this adventure will be more interesting than I initially thought." Gandalf said, bent over in the small home.

"Sorry?" Bilbo turned and looked to the wizard. He was glancing toward the dining room. The look on his face, thoughtful.

"It would not be folly," continued the wizard, "to have fifteen members of the company..." Perfect. It wasn't as if this day could get more confusing for poor Master Baggins, even if it tried its hardest. With a smile, Gandalf nodded toward the other room.

"Come, let us join the others."

The dining room of Bag End was filled with shadows stretching from the few candles that were lit to maintain a certain air of darkness and shadowed dealings. As were what these were. What darker dealings in all of Middle Earth than talk of killing dragons and taking back conquered homes?

The dark-haired halfling entered the room last. Ever since he had first stepped out of the shadows, Thorin was suspicious of him. His eyes had seen much, they did not have the same spark of naïvety his cousin's did. And what would have happened to the halfling to make him so thin and missing his ring finger? The halfling would tell his story in time, the dwarf was sure of it, but until then, Thorin decided that while Master Baggins would pose as their burglar, upon Gandalf's insisting that he could be one, and Master Took would be another addition to their company.

Where was the fault in more strength?

It wasn't long before Gandalf and Master Baggins re-joined the throng and the processions regarding the journey began.

The table was quiet, as Thorin spoke first.

"Do you know why we're here, Master Baggins?" He began with nary a glance towards the shivering halfling. Bilbo shook his head. "Surely Gandalf would have told you. We're here to discuss the matter of a dragon." Ori chose that moment to stand, fists clenched.

"I'm not afraid!" He declared. "I'll show him! I'll shove some dwarvish iron right up his jacksie!" The other dwarves gave howls of approval to their smallest member, but Dori tugged his brother down with a motherly scowl of disapproval.

"I'll bet Gandalf has killed plenty of dragons in his time!" Kíli piped in, over the shouting dwarves, standing on his seat (ignoring a small shout from Bilbo of "Can you please not do that?"). At that, Gandalf seemed to retreat further into his corner by Thorin.

"Well, have you?" Fíli asked, aiding his younger brother's curiosity while Kíli used his shoulder as leverage.

"Have I what?"

"Killed any dragons, of course!" Kíli finished, leaning over, nearly on the table in his excitement to hear a tale from the wizard.

"Well, no..." Gandalf's brows knit and he crossed his arms. Thorin raised a hand, and the dwarves immediately hushed, out of the corner of his eye, Thorin caught the sight of a handshake between Nori and the dark-haired halfling.

"No more careless talk of dragons." He ordered, taking Thrain's map from his coat and setting in on the table, unfolding it and taking in, once again, the map and the familiar Khuzdul. The burglar leaned over to look at it, his hand resting on the back of Thorin's chair.

"The Lonely Mountain." He read aloud slowly, glancing over the map, eyes darting from the drawing of Smaug to the pointing hand and runes.

"Our destination." Thorin replied with a small tap on the drawn mountain. "Erebor."

The first thing Frodo noticed was how much taller than his uncle he was. He wasn't excessively tall for a hobbit, not like Pippin and Merry after their drink of Ent Drought, but it was clear to him that Bilbo did not get shorter with age. In fact, he seemed to have gotten taller.

He tapped his fingers in a spontaneous rhythm as the dwarves shouted over each other, demanding Gandalf's attention about dragons and whatnot.

"What happened there?" The star-haired dwarf sitting next to him shoved him a little and nodded to his finger, more correctly what was left of his finger, where Smeagol had bitten it off. Frodo held up his hand and shook his head.

"It's a very long story." He said, glancing to the dwarf. "Maybe I can tell you when we get to our destination." He smiled, and the dwarf laughed, shaking his shoulder.

"Aye, I'll be expecting a good story then." Frodo grinned and nodded.

"Believe me, Master Dwarf, you will get one." He replied. The dwarf shook his head.

"Please, call me Nori, Master Took." He held out his hand and Frodo shook it.

"Then call me Frodo, Nori." The dwarf grinned and nodded before they turned their attentions back to the others, the noise dying down.

"What was that about dragons?" Bilbo visibly paled, and another dwarf, kicked back with a pipe hanging loosely from his mouth, Frodo thought it might fall if not for his hand supporting it.

"Large, serpentine creature. Razor sharp teeth and flaming breath so hot it'll melt the skin right off yer bones." He shifted his pipe and lifted an eyebrow at Bilbo.

"W-what?"

"Think furnace," he leaned forward, "with wings." The dwarf settled back into his previous position.

"R-r-right..." Bilbo stuttered, beginning to sway on his feet.

"Are you alright, lad?" The hatted dwarf inquired, watching Bilbo steady himself on the wall. The hobbit was focused on taking deep breaths.

"U- Bilbo?" Frodo asked, standing and moving away from the table, placing a hand on his uncle's shoulder.

"Struck by lightning." Bilbo muttered , resting his forehead against the wall. The dwarves exchanged glances, unsure what to do with the trembling hobbit.

"Struck by lightning." He repeated, shouting and falling back from the wall, tripping over his own foot. Frodo quickly adjusted his touch so that he was able to catch Bilbo, seeing that he had fainted.

"What happened to him?" The smallest dwarf, who had earlier claimed that he was not afraid, asked, and Frodo shook his head.

"Didn't you hear?" He said. "Struck by lightning." He let his uncle down slowly, before fetching a decorative pillow and placing it behind his head.

If mere talk of Smaug frightened Bilbo now, Frodo couldn't help but wonder what made him brave enough to riddle with the beast, ringwinner and luckwearer. He who drowns his friends then raises them alive again from the water. What happened to his dear uncle to make him so brave?


	3. Dreadful things, adventures

The first thing Bilbo noticed upon waking was the pillow beneath his head. Blinking, he craned himself up, supporting his weight on his forearms as he shook his aching head. The floor was an odd place to sleep... Why did he-?

The dwarves. Thirteen of them. And a dragon who can melt skin off of your bones.

Right.

Perfect.

No wonder he had a headache.

As to not further his pain, Bilbo gently rose from the ground and was greeted by a deep, rumbling voice that only exasperated his headache.

"Will you be joining us, burglar?" The dwarf said, standing over him. Bilbo paused, looked up to the dwarf, and let himself show all of the confusion he had been feeling over the last few hours.

"That's just it," he said as he pushed himself to stand, bracing against the rush that accompanied standing too quickly, "I'm no burglar, I've never stolen a thing in my life, and I cannot join you. I have my home, my garden. I have everything I could ever want here, so why would I leave it all at the whim of thirteen dwarves and a meddling wizard?" The blue eyes grew soft as Thorin reached out and place a hand on Bilbo's shoulder.

"I understand." He said, and it made the hobbit's mind whirl. He understood? "And I agree. You are not a burglar, and you are not fit for this journey. Perhaps it would be better for all of us if you did not join us." He then turned and began walking away. But Bilbo was fuming, and he would be damned before he let this rude, invasive, intense dwarf walk away after insulting him like that.

Maybe it's just the Took in him.

"Now see here," he had to try to keep a respectable tone in his voice and not let the anger overwhelm him, "you do not know that. I could be the best burglar in all Farthings, but you couldn't know that. Who are you to speak for me, Master Dwarf? This is the first time you've ever met me." Scowling, Bilbo took a step back. "No, I will not join you on your journey, and my reasoning is not because I am inadequate, but because you are rude." Feeling he made his point, Bilbo turned and exited the room.

When Frodo found his uncle, Bilbo was in the sitting room, helping himself to a cup of tea. Frodo had joined the other dwarves in the sitting room after Bilbo had fainted, and only discovered he was awake at the sound of raised voices. During the time Bilbo had rested, Frodo had learned which name belonged to which dwarf.

He'd heard about them whenever he asked, but he found how little he actually knew about Fíli and Kíli. Which was understandable, considering their fates.

Frodo stepped softly into the sitting room where Bilbo was curled up on the seat and sipping tea. He waited curiously, before speaking.

"Surely, they aren't that bad." He said with a grin as Bilbo turned toward him in his seat.

"They are." He said with a nod. "Believe me, they are." Bilbo looked to Frodo, a strange look in his eyes, and tilted his head. "Then there is you... You claim to be my cousin, yet I have never met you before today. You seem to be familiar with me, and I cannot help but wonder how. You come here to help me, to see what I feel, but why do you care?" Frodo gave him a small smile.

"I'll tell you when we have more time, I promise, but now I have to ask you, why not? Why don't you want to go, and I know it is not just because Thorin is an arse." Frodo said, relaxing against the armrest of his uncles' chair. Bilbo sighed, relaxing his arms and lowering his cup.

"I'm not an adventurer or a burglar. I am a Baggins, of Bag End. We don't head out on frivolous adventures." He said. Frodo shifted and tisked.

"You're also a Took, remember that." He glanced at Bilbo as deep voices rose from the sitting room. "I don't believe you've ever heard the story of Peregrin Took, called Pippin by his friends. He went on an adventure, you see, and beforehand, he was a rambunctious lad. Practical jokes, setting off fireworks. But his adventure made him better, because he tasted entish and orcish waters. He sang for the steward of Gondor and fought for him. Do you know what Pippin did when he was faced with the adversities of orcs? He outsmarted them. It doesn't matter what sort of sort you are when you leave, it only matters what sort of sort you are when you return." Frodo tilted his head and crossed his arms.

"So, Bilbo, you may be a respectable Baggins now, but I know you could be so much more, if you would only come to the Lonely Mountain with us." Bilbo sighed.

"You make it sound so easy, dear lad." He said with a shake of his head. "I can hardly go running out of my front door, waving the contract about, yelling that I'm going on an adventure..." Frodo stifled a laugh at this, refusing to mention how his uncle had done exactly that the first time around. "And you must realise that my life is here."

"But what about them? Where is their life? They wish to take back their home and they cannot do so with only the brute strength of warriors. They will need wit and political charm, and that, dear u-cousin, is where you will come in. You will, I know you will, allow them the skills they are lacking. If there's anything I know, it is that your years of reading will have gotten you a strong sense of diplomacy, and you've met Thorin. They will desperately need it."

The air of the room followed when the halfling turned and left. Thorin could have been angry with himself for saying such things, he did let his temper get away from him on occasion, but he knew, somewhere deep in himself, the halfling would change his mind. And when he did, they would depart. The stubborn dwarf's belief was only augmented when he entered the main sitting room of Bag End and the halfling's cousin rushed past him. He didn't find it in him to wonder where the halfling went. He only knew he went toward Bilbo. To convince him, if the whispers of the Company were anything to go by. Thorin joined them silently. The group hushed, eyes darting.

"Frodo seems like a nice lad." It was Bofur who spoke first, relaxing back into his chair by the fireplace. "He wants to help, too." Thorin made no sign of having noticed the miner's words. "And I'm sure, if you weren't so unkind to Bilbo, he would join us, too."

"He will decide." The king-in-exile grumbled. "And he will join us on our quest." The Company fell again into an uncomfortable silence, before Kíli stood, grinning.

"How about some music to lighten the mood, hmm?" He asked, placing his hands on his hips.

"Kíli, please..." Thorin sighed, not wanting to deal with his nephews nonsense at the moment. The dissatisfaction of his Uncle did nothing to deter the young prince's enthusiasm. Soon, he began dancing around the room, grabbing Ori and pulling him along with him to the music in his head.

"It's tavern time!" Kíli sang, a few dwarves, Dwalin and Gloin, laughed upon recognising the popular pub song. "For ale or wine!" He then released Ori and sent him sputtering into Dwalin. Fíli joined him then, and they hooked arms and danced in a neat circle.

"It's time to fill your cups!" The brothers sang in unison. "The end of the day! It's time to say! Beard down and belly up!" Bofur chimed in then, throwing his arms wide. Soon, most dwarves, dis-including Thorin and Balin, thought the latter dwarf laughed as the young scribe, disregarding the irked expression on Dori's face, pulled his brother into a dance, were singing along to the song. When they finished, Kíli pushed his brother down and fell beside him.

"We won't be able to do that on the road." Kíli then said remorsefully, though still catching his breath. They were soon disrupted by the small sound of a throat being cleared. The Company looked over and saw Frodo and Bilbo in the doorway. Bilbo nodded to Balin.

"I'll be seeing that contract now." He said. Diplomatically, Balin nodded and stood from his chair, contract in hand and gave it to the halfling. Bilbo looked over the contract before heading to his study. He returned a few moments later, a pack and bedroll under his arm, and handed the contract to Balin.

"I will go with you." He said as Balin looked over the contract. "Under one condition." The dwarves turned to him, shocked and curious, as Frodo did the same. "If I want to return home, you are to let me."

"Of course." Balin nodded as he folded the contract again. "It is nice to have you with us, Master Baggins." They shook hands, and Gandalf took this time to stand.

"And so we have the Company of Thorin Oakenshield. Fifteen, I take it?" The wizard gave Frodo a small wink. "It would be best if we all retired for the night. The dawn will come quickly tomorrow." He gave a quick glance toward Bilbo. "And I'm sure our host won't mind keeping a few of us here." On cue, Bilbo nodded. "The rest of you, we will meet at the Green Dragon in the morning." With that, it seemed the gathering of Thorin Oakenshield and Company had officially ended.


	4. If It Don't Look Like Mutton Tomorrow

The rain that poured down was utterly miserable and chilled Frodo to the bone. Still better than Mordor, though, he had to admit. A vast difference, as he remembered being thankful to find that spring flowing with water in comparison to the treacherous wasteland beyond.

How he would have wished for weather like this.

"Would you be so inclined to end this deluge, Master Gandalf?" He heard Dori shout ahead of him. To him, it sounded like a good idea. He was sure the rest of the Company was just as thoroughly soaked as he was and agreed the rain should stop...

"I'm afraid I will not change the weather, Master Dori. It will rain until it is done raining." Gandalf replied, his voice authoritative, as it always seemed to be. Soon enough, Frodo's attention was shifted when Dwalin huffed beside him.

"He calls himself a great wizard, but 'e won't even stop some rain." The tattooed dwarf huffed. Frodo looked over at him, then shrugged.

"I don't know. If this rain can bother even a mighty dwarven warrior, how am I, a simple hobbit, ever going to survive it?" He retorted, which caused Dwalin to huff again.

"Rukhsul menu." He muttered, but the gleam of amusement in his eyes and tone deceived his words. At the amusement, Frodo couldn't help but to smile.

"Now, Master Dwalin," Nori said from behind, tossing a half-eaten apple at Dwalin's head, "it's rude to call someone that. Also rude to insult someone in a different language." Dwalin scoffed and rolled his eyes.

"It's rude to throw apples at people's heads as well, Nori." He said, and Nori laughed.

"I never claimed to be respectable, Master Dwalin, you know that." He grinned, riding between Dwalin and Frodo. The hobbit raised his eyebrows.

"I take it there is a history between you two." The speculation was directed to Nori, and the star-haired dwarf shrugged.

"You could say that. My brothers and I, we're natives of the Blue Mountains, and one of the reasons we went on the quest were stories our Mamad would tell us before she died. She would tell us of Erebor and its magnificence and glory. Dori and I, we always wanted to see it. When I met Thorin, this journey came up... I'm getting away from myself... Dwalin was a guard in the Blue Mountains, and I, well let's just say I was less than honorable-"

"You were a good fer nothin' thief is what you were." Dwalin interrupted.

"Fine, yes, I was a thief. I did what I had to to survive so Ori would have to, are you happy now?" Nori sighed. "Anyway, as you can probably tell by now, Dwalin and I don't exactly get along." Frodo nodded, considering this for a moment.

"Would it not be better for both of you and the journey in general if the two of you got along?" Nori and Dwalin exchanged a look.

"Nah." They said simultaneously. Frodo silently laughed and rolled his eyes at them.

Into the next day, the rain continued to fall steadily, but soon let up after finding a small alcove and hearing a warg's cry. That night, Frodo and Bilbo heard the story of Azanulbizar. The story that branched many things, but no matter how hard he pushed, Frodo could never get more than 'just a bloody orc' from his uncle. Now he was here, now he was living it, he'd be able to sate his curiosity. But now he had something he didn't have all those times before, a name.

It wasn't long after the rest in the alcove that the Company found themselves at a charred farmhouse in the middle of nowhere. It unsettled Bilbo, to say the least. Why was there a farmhouse out here and why was it burnt down? The only worse thing was that Gandalf and Thorin had fought. Gandalf threw up his hands in annoyance.

"Confound the stubbornness of dwarves!" He announced. Bilbo and Frodo exchanged a glance as the wizard walked away.

"Where are you going?" Bilbo called after him.

"To council with the only one around here who has any sense!" He huffed, climbing onto his horse and riding away before either hobbit had a chance to counter his decision. Bilbo wanted to walk over to Thorin and ask him what he'd said to Gandalf to cause him to walk off angrily, but it seemed his "cousin" had already beat him to it.

"What did you say to him, Thorin Oakenshield?" Frodo huffed, his lips pursed. Bilbo felt as though he should say something, but he also had a feeling this would be far too entertaining to stop.

"Why do you care, Frodo Took?" Thorin countered, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

"The person who you ran out of camp happens to be a wizard. In case you've forgotten, we've been hearing wolves or wargs or whatever the hell they were quite a lot recently that there is no other explanation for but that someone, or more accurately, something is hunting us. I wouldn't want to not have a wizard among us when they finally do attack." He argued.

"He's right, laddie." Balin said, coming from Frodo's left. "It wasn't a good idea on your part." Thorin shook his head and walked past the two.

"You don't need to agree with my decision, for it has already been made." He trudged back to the others broodingly. "We make camp here!"

**...**

When night fell upon the company, Bombur was cooking their dinner, and Bilbo was sitting beside him. They spoke amiably about different spices, and the former cook began to grow fond of the hobbit. Bilbo felt as though he had started to make a few friends. He and Bofur had gotten along well while they rode and now he and Bombur chatted like old friends. Bombur hummed after Bilbo had finished his stew and leaned over to pour some of the remaining in two bowls.

"Fíli and Kíli are on watch," he explained, handing the bowls to Bilbo, "could you run these to them?"

That was how Bilbo found himself cowering behind a tree listening to two trolls complain about mutton, while the third complained about recognition.

"Mutton yesterday, mutton today, and blimey, if it don't look like mutton tomorrer." To be honest, Bilbo was shaking in fear. Anyone would, in his shoes. The trolls were much larger than him, though he was a bit surprised they could speak.

"Never a blinking bit o' manflesh have we had for long enough. What the 'ell William was a-thinkin' of to bring us into these parts at all, beats me- and the drink's runnin' short what's more." Everything about these trolls were large, themselves, their fire, and even the logs they sat on. Not to mention their talk.

"Shut yer mouth! You can't expect folk to stop here forever just to be et by you and Bert. You've et a village and a half between yer. What even happened to a nice 'Thank yer, Bill' for a nice bit o' fat valley mutton like what this is, eh?" There were many things Bilbo could do in this situation, many if he were brave enough. One of which would be to free the ponies, which he would do if he had a sword or something sharp to cut the rope that held their makeshift pen closed. Something inside him, he would blame the Took, of course, pushed him forward and behind one of the trolls, trying to fish his blade from his belt.

It was also what led him to be sneezed on by a troll, which is not a pleasant experience.

"Aye!" The troll exclaimed. "Look what's come outta me hooter!" The trolls gathered around him then.

"What d'you think it is?" One, Bert maybe, asked William, who shook his head and gave the poor hobbit a nasty jab in the side.

"What are you?" He asked. Despite everything, the trolls just seemed like large fauntlings to Bilbo.

"I'm a bur-a-a hobbit!" The near slip of the tongue surprised Bilbo to a degree.

"A burrahobbit? Are there more?"

"Aye, Tom! I found me a burrahobbit right 'ere!" Bert looked rather happy pulling a disheveled Frodo from behind him.

"Maybe we could make a nice shepherd's pie outta them." William suggested. The one holding Bilbo, Tom, tightened his grip as he shook the mucus from the hobbit.

"That's a very bad idea!" Bilbo shouted, after regaining his wits from being shaken like a rag doll, even though his lungs, that were being nearly crushed, protested. "We h-burrahobbits don't cook well, at all. Our meat is stringy... Not at all the sort honest trolls like you would want to ea-" His words gave way as Tom gave him another squeeze.

"What d'you mean then?" The troll asked.

"Well, I cook better than I cook, if you understand me, and there's a secret to cooking anything to make it right for the eating, and I'll tell you. I will tell you what the secret for cooking burrahobbit is if you put me down, him as well, because he knows it too, and we burrahobbits are much better at thinking on our feet than in the air." Bert and Tom exchanged a look before setting Frodo and Bilbo down. Trolls, by principle, are not the bright of creatures, and for Bilbo and Frodo to run now would not be respectable, so Bilbo stood his ground and held Frodo with him.

"Now, what's the secret?" William, who seemed the head troll and by far the most intimidating, asked.

"The secret is..." Skin them first! His mind wanted to shout. Luckily, he had a better grip on his tongue. "...to..." If it wasn't already obvious, Bilbo was stalling. The many books he'd read talked a little about trolls, and many mentioned how they turned to stone in the sunlight. There was still, however, a bit of the night ahead of them. "...have you got any parsley?" Beside him, Frodo shook his head.

"No no, you need thyme to cook a burrahobbit, not parsley." He said. Bilbo shrugged, glad he was playing along.

"I've heard parsley works better, really brings out the smoked quality of the meat." He said, and Frodo laughed.

"But they're cooking rotary style, everyone knows you use thyme when cook burrahobbits rotary." He argued, and now Bilbo shook his head.

"No no, you're thinking seperately, if they're planning on cooking us into a pie, I demand to be cooked with parsley." He said. Were this another time and place, they would laugh at Bilbo's insistence to be cooked with parsley. Since it was not that time or place, Frodo merely threw up his hands.

"Then by all means, if you insist they use parsley to cook us, then I say they use basil as well." He argued, and this time, Bilbo nodded.

"Good, we're at an understanding then. Parsley and basil. Chop, chop. We haven't got all night." By now, the trolls were utterly confused, glancing at each other.

"You... want to be et by us?" Bert asked, dumbfounded. (Which wasn't that difficult to do, actually.)

"Well, only if you do it right." Came Bilbo's snippy reply. For a moment, the trolls continued to sit dumbfounded, the William stood.

"Eh, we're trolls. We don' need their permission ta eat 'em! We just eat 'em!" It was precisely at this moment, when William dove at the hobbits, that Gandalf, bless his soul, climbed onto a rock behind the trolls.

"May dawn take you all!" He shouted before piercing the rock and splitting it in two, displaying a shimmering sunlight that turned the trolls to stone. That was when the dwarves finally came out from the trees, having seen and heard Bilbo and Frodo's grand act at distracting the trolls.

After turning the trolls to stone, the company had time to rest, namely, Frodo and Bilbo did, being that the two of them did all the work. Thorin sent Dwalin, Bofur, Dori, and Gloin to investigate and search for any sort of cave, while he stayed behind. Thorin had a plan, and an insatiable curiosity regarding the burglar's cousin. He'd seen him with Nori more than a few times. Which only enhanced his decision to pull Nori to the side. The thief regarded him with a suspicious glance and raised eyebrows.

"What's this about?" He asked after a moment.

"I need information..."

"So you're finally taking me up on my offer, are you? Good, good. Information on what or whom exactly?" The thief straightened and folded his hands behind himself innocently, his gaze expectant.

"The halfling." Thorin kept his voice low. Nori raised an eyebrow.

"Bilbo?"

"Frodo." The answer was quick but had Nori backing away, hands raised. He was shaking his head. So. The thief did know loyalty

"Sorry. Not him. That would be betrayal." He met Thorin's eyes then. "Not me." With that, Thorin turned, taking it into consideration.

"Then I'll get someone else to do it, there are plenty of curious souls in our midst..." He said with a shrug, starting back toward the others. Five seconds, he figured, and Nori would change his mind...

"Thorin." The thief said firmly, holding up a finger. "If I agree to this, you have to promise me that I can withhold any information from you that I deem appropriate." Thorin turned back.

"I will hold you to that, Nori. I am more than grateful you've agreed to this." He nodded to the thief and turned, walking away. Would make a good Spymaster when we rebuild Erebor. The more he knew about Frodo and his story, the better. He couldn't have someone he couldn't trust ruining his quest.

This thought was nullified when another wizard flew into the clearing with a sled pulled by rabbits. Thorin looked to Gandalf questionably, who smiled at the wizard.

"Ah, Radagast, nice of you to join us."


	5. These Aren't Ordinary Rabbits

Radagast was eccentric, and that's putting it lightly. Upon first sight, anyone would be inclined to ask, is this man truly a member of the Istari? It was rumored that even Saruman held these views, but no one really had the heart to tell Radagast because even though he was a bit... eccentric, he was still a damn good wizard. Or at least, that's what Gandalf had told Frodo whenever he asked. Eccentric hadn't seemed the right word for him when he rode into the clearing. Insane may have been a better word. He certainly let off the air of it, with the bird droppings running down one side of his face and a certain "I've lost it" expression in his eyes. Not to mention the sled of rabbits. He was even visibly shaking when he grabbed Gandalf's shoulders and looked him in the eye.

"I was just on my way to see you, Gandalf." He said, the higher pitch of his voice accenting the visage of insane. "There's something dark at work. Dark! It sent its servants after you and your..." He glanced at the dwarves and hobbits and whimpered. "...companions. When they're safe, when they're safe, you must come with me. Confront it, stop it. I can't do it alone. I tried and..." Another whimper. "Please." Gandalf held up his pipe to his friend.

"Be calm, Radagast. I will join you when it is suitable for me to leave my friends alone on their quest. As I've learned recently, no matter how long they can manage on their own, they will need my aid in the end." He sent a look to Frodo and Bilbo. "Any matter, what was this about servants of the dark sent after us? How would they possibly know...?" In a moment, Gandalf's demeanor changed when he turned to Thorin, his gaze like a storm.

"Who did you tell of this quest?" He asked calmly but sternly. Thorin did not shrink but grew more than ever in presence.

"No one expect those you see in front of you. I swear it." His tone was just as hard as Gandalf's. "Why would I want to endanger my own journey? Why would I want to put loyal dwarves in danger?" Gandalf stepped back, turning then to Radagast.

"How long do you gather we have until these servants of the dark arrive?" He demanded. Radagast hummed, his eyes wide, looking into the forest he had ridden into the clearing from.

"Ten..." He said. Thorin turned to the Company.

"Positions!" He called out, unsheathing his new blade, while Gandalf took out Glamdring and Bilbo held out Sting. Each blade was glowing blue, but the Company was ready, Bofur with his mattock and Kíli with his bow. Kíli fired when the first warg, a small brown thing, looking malnourished and ragged, leaped through the bushes.

"Run!" Radagast cried. "I will draw them off." Attentions turned to him.

"You have a sled pulled by rabbits," Thorin pointed out, "they'll easily catch up to you." When Radagast turned to him, there was a glint in his eyes.

"These are Rhosgebel rabbits." He said, climbing into the sled and rearing up the reigns. "I'd like to see them try." Then he took off through the brush into the forest again. Gandalf nodded to Thorin and led the Company out of the clearing, everything weighted on Radagast and his rabbits.

It was hardly a bright decision, but Gandalf led them to an open plain, a few rocks and tufts of grass scattered, where they hid behind one of the many large rocks, something of an alcove that provided seemingly excellent concealment from the scouting party.

"Where do we go now?" Frodo asked, cautiously and quietly, eyes darting between Thorin and Bilbo, who happened to be on his left and right. Bilbo gave him a hesitant, if not tinged with fear, look while Thorin simply placed a hand over Frodo's mouth and held a finger to his own, hushing. Growling sounded above them, on the perch, and it was far too close for comfort.

Thorin should have seen this coming. Between the warg calls at night, which must have been them picking up on the Company's trail, and the stale of the air, he should have known that the wargs would find them. He felt that it was his fault they cowered and fled. Luckily, most of the wargs and orc riders had chased after Radagast as expected. It was just this one who wandered off from the others. Thorin saw the glint in Kíli's eyes when his sister-son looked at him. He didn't even have time to shake his head before Kíli rolled into the open and fired an arrow at the warg and rider. It was clear that his plan was to keep them hidden, but that plan died with the warg's last cry. The Company exchanged glances as the orc pack's attention was drawn toward them. Thorin removed his hand from Frodo's mouth and instead took hold of the halfling's arm, shoving him into Nori's safekeeping while he reached for Bilbo with a single shout to the Company.

"Run!" It was as if they'd let loose a pack of Rohirrim horses, how the dwarves took off after that word. Dori kept a firm hold on Ori's hand. Nori's grip on Frodo's arm echoed that of Thorin's on Bilbo's arm. Thorin looked around them for a sign of the wizard.

"Bazig!" He growled under his breath. "Where is that thrice-damned wizard when you need him?" His thoughts didn't maintain that rush of anger when Bilbo pulled him to the side, narrowly avoiding an arrow that would have hit him. He looked to the horizon, sighing when he saw the orcish riders in a line with their bows angled up, ready to fire. His gaze shot back, and he saw Tharkûn waving them to a rock before vanishing behind it.

Curse that wizard. Thorin's thoughts rang as he ran with the burglar toward the stone.

"Here!" He called to the Company, before descending himself, pushing Bilbo down the slope in front of him.

Frodo wasn't exactly expecting half of the events that followed Radagast's appearance. He knew they'd happen upon a hidden door to the valley of Rivendell, but he soon became aware of how much violence his uncle had censored out of the story. It was a miracle, it seemed, he even knew about the Battle of the Five Armies, no matter how little description his uncle actually put into it. The thoughts came to him while he and Nori, followed by Dori and Ori dodged the raining onslaught of orcish arrows all the while running towards the drop of earth where each Gandalf, Thorin, and Bilbo had disappeared.

The only warning Frodo had that one of the orc scouts had caught up with them was a sweeping sound, so he promptly ducked, barely escaping the blade that meant to cut off his head, but only took off a bit of his hair. The orc snarled as Dori shoved Ori, Nori, and Frodo behind him, taking out his flail and glaring at the orc.

"Step away, ahyrunâl rukh." He growled. The orc chuckled, rearing his sword back again. Acting more quickly -all the while Frodo praised Eru for the slow reflexes of orcs- Dori struck the orc, flail bashing into the orc's head, causing a mist of black blood to paint the air around them. The sight wasn't like what he'd seen in Mordor, he'd seen worse, especially when he'd been captured and tortured by the goblins of Cirith Ungol, but this was bad in a completely different way. He could feel the bile rise in his throat for a moment, but the disgust didn't last long.

"You don't lay a hand on my nadadiths." Dori said under his breath, the warning to the dead orc glaringly clear. He turned back to them then, nodding. "We've got to get to safety." He spread his arms, about to shepherd the dwarves and hobbit toward the passageway when Frodo slipped under and grabbed the sword from the orc's corpse. It would be big and heavy, but he'd had larger burdens in the past. And besides, if the adventure was a lot more violent than his uncle had ever mentioned, he would need it. Especially once they got to the goblins. He followed the Brothers Ri as they finally joined the others at the tunnel.

The sounds of fighting continued outside the crevice long after the last of the dwarves joined them. To Bilbo's relief, his cousin- because after the trolls, it was hard to think of the lad as anything less than family- slid into the cavern with the Brothers Ri. Against his better judgement, he rushed forward and looked over Frodo, checking for wounds (and finding an orcish sword strapped to his belt, which earned him a look.) The moment didn't last long because of an orcish corpse sliding down the ramp and the dwarves preparing again to fight. The orc was, thankfully, dead with a few arrows in its back. The dwarves relaxed and the tunnel was silent until one word was hissed through gritted teeth.

"Elves." Thorin glared at the arrows, though Gandalf hardly seemed to worry about the dwarves' clear disdain of the mere notion that elves might be around and vanished further into the tunnel. With a pat to Bilbo's upper arm, Frodo followed. He was soon followed by a curious Bilbo, then the dwarves, because if the hobbits could go into a dark underground tunnel, they could too, even if there were to be elves on the other side.

In the tunnel, Bilbo's eyes were drawn to the green leaves above them. These small glimpses of nature soon led into an expanse of trees and other growths, as well as archways and bridges. A large building with a blue gabled roof rose as they approached. They wandered into a square, and Bilbo couldn't help but turn and take in the clearing. The tall statues of elven guards and the roaring waterfall in the distance.

Though the moment he allowed himself peace in the valley, it was soon ripped from him the moment the dwarves formed a circle, readying their weapons, pushing Frodo and Bilbo to the center. Bilbo placed a hand on his new sword, Frodo tightening his grip on the heavy orcish one he had salvaged sometime in the plains. Around them, elves with their bows at the ready rode horses around the protective circles. Bilbo could feel every one of the dwarves sneering. Beyond them, Gandalf met with an elven lord, who soon called the warriors off.

"Thorin Oakenshield, I presume?" The elf greeted. "I am Lord Elrond. Welcome to Imladris, Rivendell in the common tongue. The last homely house west of the Misty Moutains." Homely? If this is the way they greet their guests, with arrows and unspoken threats, I want no part of it!

Needless to say, any doubts that the dwarves or hobbits had of the elven hosts dissipated when food was offered, and they were ushered inside.


	6. I Don't Like The Green Food

Dwarves do not take charity from elves. Dwarves do not trust elves. Dwarves do not like elves. So what in Mahal's name was Tharkûn thinking bringing them to Rivendell, home of elves? This meddling wizard and his antics was going to be their undoing. Thorin shook his head. Surely the wizard knew about the relationship between dwarves and elves...

Of course he knew or else he wouldn't have brought them here.

But he'd have to be a fool not to notice how Bilbo's eyes lit up when he'd first entered the valley, how all the chaos regarding the journey that once thundered in the halfling's head lessened to a small rumble when he'd seen the greenery. It was rather adorable...

"What's on yer mind, Thorin?" Dwalin rested his forearms on the railing of the balcony. Nights in Rivendell could be considered nice, not as nice as the Starlit Arches of Erebor, by Mahal's will they still stood, but nice, if not a bit cold. Thorin shook his head, eyes rising to the skies above him.

"Nothing important." He answered, watching as the stars blinked in and out above them.

"That's a lie." Dwalin smirked. Thorin gave a faux exasperated sigh and hid a smile with a bowed head. There was silence for a few moments before Dwalin spoke again. "You were thinking of Erebor, weren't ye." The exiled king's old friend knew him so well, it wasn't even a question.

"You remember the Arches, don't you?" There was a nostalgic longing in his voice. The tattooed dwarf hummed in affirmation beside him.

"That I do, my friend. Best moments of my life among those arches." Dwalin gave a toothy grin before looking up to the sky. The spread of a million stars lighting the sky above them. "I can see why ya mention them. The skies 'ere are lovely."

"Nothing like the Arches." Thorin muttered and Dwalin chuckled. The stubbornness of the line of Durin. Kíli and Fíli had been displaying a lot recently, especially when they'd been so adamant on joining Thorin on his quest, no matter what Dís said to deter them.

"Yer right. The Arches are like a dwarrowdam who fights better than ye and has a nicer beard, these, they're like a dwarrowdam who fights as well as you do with a beard just as nice as yours." He mused, and it was Thorin's turn to chuckle.

"What brought these thoughts?" He asked, amused. Dwalin raised an eyebrow and looked sidelong at Thorin.

"Oh right, a dwarrow with a better beard." He joked, which earned him a nice hit on the back of the head. "Or was it a hobbit lad with flecks of gold in his hair and no beard to speak of?"

"You're lucky I'm too tired to throw you over this ledge, bond-brother or not." Thorin grumbled. A spark of mischief in Dwalin's eyes.

"Aye, but you don't deny it."

Bilbo never wanted to leave this library, and it seemed to him like Ori couldn't agree more. Together, they huddled in a corner with a book on elvish lore in Sindarin that Bilbo read out in Westron and Ori copied down in Khuzdul. Ori's eyes sparkled as he quickly (but neatly, despite the speed) wrote down everything Bilbo said, his cirth formed sharply. Ori would speak up every now and then, noting how it was different from Dwarven, and Bilbo would pitch in how both were in comparison to hobbit culture and lore, which enticed Ori even more. Soon, it was late, and Bilbo had closed their most recent book, highlighting the actions of the elves during the First Age.

"Where did you learn to read Sindarin?" Ori asked, eyes alight with curiosity. Bilbo smiled, putting the book to the side.

"My mum taught me. She was a Took, you see, and there's a rumor the Took's have faerie blood, which makes them adventurous. She would go on adventures before she married my father. She told me of this forest where she once went, the Greenwood, very far from the Shire, you see. I'm sure it was quite scandalous at the time for her to journey so far. She learned Sindarin from the elves there, and when I was growing up, she taught me." Bilbo shrugged. "I suppose that's all there is to it..." Ori raised his eyebrows.

"Did you know," he began, "the Greenwood, it's now called Mirkwood, but it's next to the Lonely Mountain. We could end up there... You could ask if anyone knew your mother." Bilbo grinned.

"Do you think they will remember her?" He asked, hope glowing in his grey eyes.

"Bilbo, if she's your mother, they would never forget her." Ori gave him a warm smile.

"I'm glad you think so." The hobbit paused for a beat. "How do you write so quickly? The... cirth... looks rather difficult to manage..." Ori's smile became bright and toothy as he pulled out his notebook and opened to the first page.

"It isn't quite that difficult to manage really, especially since I've been writing it my entire life, it is my native language after all." He explained. "The letters are mostly straight lines, with exceptions to the Westron equivalent to 'L' and 'N', among others, see how it curves a little... You see, Bilbo, even though Khuzdul sounds mean when you hear it it's actually a beautiful written language. You saw Thorin's map, right?" Bilbo nodded. "There. When the words are written in cirth, they're very lovely, or at least that's how I see it.

"Although, I find it ironic how words in cirth, when they're written, you use the cirth alphabet, but the words is Westron. Though who really wants to write... unjúkudhab, for example, in cirth?" The scribe laughed. Bilbo wouldn't voice his surprise on how much Ori was talking, but the scribe suddenly seemed to notice it and turned red. Bilbo smiled and opened a book, letting his eyes drift down to the words.

It was nice hearing Ori speak, and for that long it had taken him off guard. If Bilbo could have his way, Ori would talk more. He couldn't help but notice then, how much Ori tended to talk around a certain large, tattooed dwarf. Bilbo gave a soft laugh to himself, and for a moment he thought he heard Ori's pen still, it would seem his quiet friend had a bit of a crush.

"No, no, no." Nori shook his head. "I refuse to help my brother, my little brother- mind you- get into a relationship. You can't make me." He folded his arms, punctuating his point. Frodo laughed.

"Then you can handle the bets. Who will get together first?" He offered. Nori's eyebrow rose in intrigue.

"Who are the options, young Took?" He asked, a mischievous smile spreading easily on his lips.

"Your brother and Dwalin. Or, my cousin and Thorin." Frodo smirked, and Nori laughed.

"I can stand behind this." He said, body shaking with his laughter, arms falling.

"Stand behind what, Master Nori?" Gandalf stepped into the hall from the shadows, Frodo and Nori exchanged the same worried glance- one that slightly reminded Frodo of the look Pippin and Merry gave each other when they were caught- before looking back to Gandalf. Both sorted through to choose their words carefully.

"Well," Nori was the one to gather his wits first, "you know how much dwarves love to bet, especially the dwarves of the Company, if you remember how much Balin won for predicting the weather the first week, and we thought it would be for everyone's best interest if we started something new to gamble on." He grinned, similar to Kíli's signature grin, most likely hoping Gandalf wouldn't ask what the bet was... and his smile crumpled when Gandalf did exactly that. Frodo spoke this time.

"Progressing relationships in the Company." If there was anything his uncle taught him not to do, it was how to be diplomatic in his words and not to lie to wizards (or tell dragons his name, but everyone knew that.) Gandalf's eyebrows shot up, before he pulled a small bag of gold from his sleeve and handed it to Nori.

"Put me down for the least likely option." He said with a wink before turning away, leaving Frodo and Nori blinking.

If any of the dwarves reminded Frodo of the friends he had taken with him on his journey. The friends that had joined the Fellowship and would have followed him to Mordor -Sam who did, who would do anything- Nori was the most like Pippin. The dwarf was trouble, just like his Took friend, maybe even more so. Ori seemed to be most like the loyal Samwise, soft spoken, but he knew that beneath the scribe's quiet mask was a fighter who would defend his friends to the last breath- if his bones in Moria were anything to go by. If anything, Dwalin would be like Merry. A warrior inclined to mischief if his friends were. It amazed him really, how similar his Fellowship was to his uncle's Company.

When the third day came in Rivendell, after underhanded bets were placed to Nori, with Frodo keeping track of who voted for what, he wasn't surprised that Thorin ordered they move, towards the Misty Mountains cold.


	7. Clap, Snap, The Black Crack

Nori had been sleeping so soundly, before the floor opened beneath them, which he still didn't understand. After the incident with the trolls, though, why wasn't he expecting this? Nori vowed, from now on, he wouldn't be surprised by anything he would see or learn on this journey. That was just enough to keep his sanity, diminishing as it was. The initial landing was chaos, goblins, some of them singing, prodding the Company. He didn't quite know what disturbed him more...

He'd wanted to kill them all and he tried, he tried until he'd been overtaken by their numbers, until he'd seen Dori dragged down, until he'd seen Ori thrown down...

The goblins only brought him as a prisoner because he let them. Only because they had his brothers. The foul creatures gave the Company a moment after rounding them up. He took in a breath of relief when he saw Dori, Ori, and Frodo- his nadads- huddled together, and he pushed through the group of dwarves and wrapped his arms around his nadadith. Ori was fine, Ori was alright. He felt Frodo's hand on his arm and Dori's hand on his back. Together, they were fine. His family was fine.

Then a goblin seemed to rise from the floor. He was grotesque. Well, all goblins were grotesque but if they were to ever have a competition to see which goblin was the most, this one would take the crown, and if the crown he did wear meant anything, they must have had the competition already. And he did indeed win.

The goblin grinned, teeth cracked, and with a strong voice greeted them, which was unexpected- not surprising- why would the goblin greet them?

"Ah! Thorin Oakenshield and his company of misfitting dwarves and a halfling," A halfling? Where's Bilbo? "it is my pleasure to welcome you to the Goblin Town of the Misty Mountains. As slaves. Or, I could be paid for capturing you. Someone wants your head, Thorin Oakenshield, and I think you know who it is." There was a spark in the goblin's eyes. He knew, and Thorin knew, if the shift in his stance gave any signs regarding.

Azog. It had to be him. Azog was willing to pay this filthy goblin for his head. Thorin's eyes flickered to the Goblin King again, who was clapping.

"Yes, yes." He now realised he had said the name aloud. "Azog the Defiler, but you already knew that he wanted you dead. I'm on his side, personally, you did cut off his arm."

"He killed my father." Thorin's voice was broken when he spoke, but the large goblin waved it off.

"Pish posh. In my opinion, there are far too many dwarvish kings. You cut off the head of one, two more take his place. Like a nasty infestation, really. Luckily, I have them both here." The Goblin held up a hand. "Disarm them!" As soon as the words were spoken, the goblins surrounding began to claw at the dwarves, ripping away their weapons. The Goblin glanced over the now unarmed dwarves, a sick, twisted smile dancing on his lips.

"How will I punish you lot, to make you the best slaves Goblin Town has ever seen? Batter you? Beat you?" He laughed, the goblins joined with him, their cackles filling the air. "Shall we torture you? Hmm, maybe just the youngest..." His eyes fell on Ori. Behind Thorin, Nori and Dori shouted.

"No!" Nori ripped through the crowd, but Gloin and Dwalin caught him before he could get close enough.

"You lay a finger on him, and I'll rip your head off with my bare hands, menu mamad mahabrûfâl!" Nori snarled, and somewhere in the back, Dori gasped. No doubt covering Ori's ears. The Goblin laughed again.

"My, my, my, look at you all tough, cursing at me in Khuzdul. You'll be a fun one to break." Without looking, Thorin knew that Nori had retreated back to his family. The Goblin spread his arms out, saying: "Well? Shove off!" Before he ascended with some sort of pulley system. Then the goblin began to push the Company, leading them onto a bridge. Again the goblins began to sing. Thorin felt a hand grab his coat, a small hand, dare he feel hope? He glanced back and saw Kíli's brown eyes, wide with fear. The lad was too young. Too young for this.

But like a light sent by Mahal (though clearly not), Gandalf raised his staff and called to them.

"Take up arms! Beat them down!" He called, and their weapons fell at their feet. Quickly, Thorin took up his blade and fought the goblins around him. Though, if he noticed that Nori fought harder than usual, hovering around Ori and Frodo, he never said anything.

It was dark and Bilbo's head hurt. Falling. Yes. He'd fallen during the first scuffle with the goblins. He'd hit his head. Carefully, because all this falling has got to have an affect on his health, he sat up, trying to get a hold on his situation. The details fell into place except one. What could live underneath a cavern of goblins? He felt his heart drop. Maybe there was nothing, maybe there was something.

His fears were met with a steady drip and a small gleam in the darkness. A flash of gold that transfixed him so much that he found himself crawling toward it, reaching, and reeling back when he felt a hard, stomach-clenching, object encasing the gold. He may have lived his life through books, but he knew this nonetheless. These were bones, old bones, but bones all the same. Whoever they were, they died with this trinket, for this trinket perhaps, but it didn't stop Bilbo from opening the hand- too small for a man or elf, too cared for to be a goblin, too small for a dwarf, couldn't have been a child... Hobbit. A hobbit was plausible. Bilbo gulped- and taking the trinket, a ring. He held it up and examined it. A simple gold ring. Interesting, to find it in such an out of the way location. By bones. What was so special about this ring anyway?

He slipped it into his waistcoat pocket before glancing around him again. There was no sign of an exit, or at least there wasn't before his sword, which had slipped from its sheath because of his fall, began to glow. Bilbo leaped for it, taking up the sword, and searched, his eyes darting from one corner of the now lit cave to the next.

A goblin smashed through a crevice, so small no one would notice it to be there unless looking at a certain angle. The goblin was rather large (and must have seen the light the sword made), larger than anyone would think a goblin to be. It caught sight of Bilbo and clicked its jaw before leaping forward, hands up and teeth bared. Terrified, Bilbo held out his sword to defend himself, successfully impaling the goblin on the blade. The goblin hissed and pleated before going limp, nearly toppling Bilbo over with his weight. The hobbit had just enough control of his sword that he was able to guide the goblin to the floor. Getting his sword was a completely different problem. He pulled a few times before he was successful, but he fell back onto the ground, sword jerking from his grasp, skittering away from him.

He took a deep breath.

This better be the most difficult thing I have to do on this journey or Eru help me...

Oh right, the dragon.

Bilbo sighed. He still had a long trip ahead of him.

In all his years, Frodo never knew much of what the dwarves did when his uncle was playing riddle contests with Smeagol. He knew now, he knew since Gandalf tossed his new elvish blade to his feet. He was going to have to fight. And fight he would.

He followed the dwarves' path of war, ducking swords and arrows as to not be injured on the way -or worse, killed. He needed to be able to help. He couldn't afford to be injured this early on, not when they were so close to Beorn.

Growing up, it was always a dream of his to go on an adventure and meet the shifter, respectable Baggins or no. Every fauntling wanted adventure before the expectations of the Shire caught up to them. Except for the Tooks, half or no.

Though on his last adventure and even now, Frodo saw what Gandalf understood. Hobbits were naturally adventurous, maybe from remnants of the Great Migration, and if they wanted to, they could take down even the greatest city, even Gondor if they wanted to. But then, of course, they might miss a few meals, and no self-respecting hobbit would let that happen.

His heart raced from the adrenaline of the fight as the bridge holding them fell. The bridge, with such a large amount of dwarves, fell faster than Frodo did, but Dori held his wrist, so that when he did catch up to the bridge, he wouldn't get hurt quite as badly.

No one really saw the Goblin King coming. A mere second before he hit the bridge, Dori put an arm around Frodo so he would only feel echoes of the Goblin's weight. And it worked. When Frodo opened his eyes, he only felt a small amount of the Goblin before carefully crawling from the bridge, and quickly finding himself being looked over by Dori. He laughed.

"Dori, you're fussier than my uncle." He said with a warm smile. The dwarf laughed as he adjusted Frodo's shirt.

"Somebody has to look over you. Mahal knows Gandalf won't do it." Dori's eyes glistened as he spoke warmly to the hobbit before stepping away. "Now I have to check on Ori." Sneaking up to the two, Nori threw his arm around Dori's shoulders.

"He's fine, nadad. See, he's with Dwalin, he's fine." The thief said with a grin. Dori straightened.

"Only more reason for me to check on him." He said before stalking off.

...

It didn't take long for the Company to find the narrow pathway that led to the exit of the mountain. He knew where Bilbo was supposed to be, he knew where they would see him coming out of the mountain soon...

Only he was the one waiting for them, sitting on a rock with his arms crossed.

"Mister Gandalf, I do believe you are late." He said with a cheeky grin.

"There ya are, laddie!" Bofur grinned and gave him a quick hug. "Could've sworn I saw ye fall into the caves with us, whatever happened to ye?" Bilbo rubbed his head.

"I feel a little farther than you lot." He said with a teasing wince. Frodo smiled and stepped forward, giving his uncle a tight hug.

"I'm glad you're alright." He said.

"Glad you are too, cousin."


	8. Azog, You Can Have My Blade

It was not yet night when the first warg cry was heard, and the Company startled. The news they had heard in the Misty Mountains shook them to the core. Azog the Defiler would be coming after them. They were lucky that each of them had made it this far, survived this long, now the bloody orc was going to make it more difficult.

Thorin took a deep breath. Protect his family and his people. That was all he had to do. The warg party now caught up to them, his Company unprepared and battered from the goblins. He would stand in front of them, stand for them. Balin would follow him. His Company would follow him. He would protect them. He had to.

"Into the trees! Run!" Everything was a blur of trees and warg calls as Thorin ran to the trees, the farthest, making sure the smaller members found their own perches. His heart pounded in his ears as the wargs jumped against the first two trees, the ones who chose them leaped to the next, but the wargs moved as well, until all sixteen Company members were in one tree at the edge of the cliff. It was then Gandalf acted, tossing burning pine cones down onto the wargs until they retreated. From the first howl, luck had not been on the Company's side, and the tree they all clung so desperately to crashed onto its side, hanging the dwarves and halflings off the edge of the cliff.

Around them, the forest caught fire, lighting up the frightened faces of the Company. Thorin kept his eyes fixed ahead, awaiting the moment the pale orc would make his presence known. He winced when he heard a shout of alarm, followed by a startled "Ori!" Then the monster showed himself, riding into the clearing on his white warg. Releasing his restraint, Thorin snarled as he watched Azog grin and make a slow, slashing motion across his neck as if saying, "Oakenshield, I will have your head." He rose on the tree, staring the orc down, who must have made an order to his men not to attack, if the barked shout in Black Speech was anything.

"Azog," Thorin muttered under his breath, "you can have my blade." He then sauntered down the tree while Azog swept off his warg. Thorin met the blows of Azog's mace with his sword, before swooping and taking up a branch for his shield. Azog's strikes became increasingly more brutal and heavier, and the look in his eye increasingly bloodthirsty. His grin wider, his grip tighter. Then he made his hardest blow yet, the blow that ripped the shield from Thorin's grasp and was followed by a swift hit to his jaw, which knocked him off his feet and onto his back. At that moment, Azog gestured to another orc, this one wielding a sword, and stepped off to the side while the orc held up the sword, ready to bring it down, cut off his head, and Thorin was ready to resign to this...

But no one really expected Bilbo Baggins, who tossed himself at the orc, the element of surprise aiding in his attempt to knock him down before quickly stabbing him in the chest, before springing back to his feet in front of Thorin. He slashed the air, eyes fixed on Azog.

Thorin took a deep breath. Protect his people, protect his family. But who would protect him when he could not? It seemed this question was answered for him.

Bilbo's mind raced. I dare you. He wanted to shout, but couldn't get the words out. I dare you! It was obvious by the look in the pale orc's eyes that he was amused. The two were like a lion and a mouse. What hope did Bilbo have of defeating him? None, but that wasn't the point. Thorin, brave, stupid, unconscious Thorin, was the point. To protect him. To give courage to the dwarves that still hung daftly to the tree and actually stood a chance against the orcs. Bilbo, he could stab them, sure enough, he just had a little difficulty in getting the sword back out.

Though that wasn't the point either, the point was that his stomach did a back flip when Azog lifted his mace and held it to his chest. He yelled out in Black Speech before pushing Bilbo back. He stumbled a little, and the orc laughed. But it didn't last very long before the warriors, Dwalin, Gloin, Balin, and Fíli, joined the fighting, and Kíli aided them from the tree, firing arrows at any orc he deemed too close to his brother or uncle.

Sunrise was close, he knew that, and when a flash of stark elven metal caught his eye, he was glad for it. A smile deceived him when he saw his cousin standing with him, holding his new elvish blade to Azog's chest. They shared a glance, and Bilbo raised his blade again, staring into Azog's soulless and eerily blue eyes.

"Do not," he said now, the voice that escaped him earlier returning fully, "even think about it." Beside him, Frodo gave him a large smile, it felt good, he had to admit. He wasn't used to being looked up to in the way of warriors.

This was the side of his uncle he had only heard stories about, the side Bilbo never needed to show in the Shire. And here it was fully, here on this dark night surrounded by fire and flame. Azog bared his pointed teeth, the pale orc who was originally supposed to kill Thorin, and Frodo matched his furiosity with with a jab of his sword.

"I'd suggest listening to him." He said, a brow raised. That didn't seem to sway Azog's decision, like he'd meant it to, quite the opposite. Azog roared out a battle cry and grabbed Bilbo's collar, lifting him from the ground, snarling for a moment, before tossing the halfling to the side. Frodo felt himself freeze, eyes widening.

"No!" He yelled, losing control of his voice for a moment, before seeing how Bilbo pushed himself up from the ground. He was alright. Frodo turned his attention to Azog in time to be pushed to the side, albeit not as harshly as Bilbo was, being that his uncle was thrown while he was only shoved.

"Uncle!" He heard Fíli cry before the wind began to pick up its pace. He knew that, somehow. From somewhere.

Mordor, after he and Sam had run as far as their legs could take them. Something else had come, starkly different against the black skies, a cry like a blessing to his ears. He'd let himself fall to the ground. He knew this.

Frodo remembered the words his uncle had shouted at the end of the Battle of the Five Armies...

The eagles are coming! The eagles are coming!

Thorin woke for a short moment. He found himself thousands of feet in the air with nothing more than large claws holding him. He was too weak to panic, the bright sunlight hurting his eyes as it was. He felt pain coursing through his entire body. Not muscle aches, no, he hadn't had those for a long time. The pain was that of screaming nerves around broken skin, and he knew he must have had a few bruises somewhere. He could feel them, and they were certainly anything but pleasant.

Eagles, eagles. Who would expect, nevertheless, warm up to such things? Apparently his cousin, who, after the eagles had taken a few wargs off the edge and rescued Thorin, had grabbed Bilbo's arm and pulled him with him as he jumped from the cliff and landed gracefully on an eagles back. The mad Took had pulled him off a cliff. He now rode at the front of the eagle, sitting up straight with his arms spread wide and his hair blowing in the wind.

While Bilbo hung on for dear life behind him.

His heart raced and he'd just risked his life for someone who hated him.

This was one of his greatest decisions ever.


	9. The Shapeshifter

It was sunset by the time Thorin finally opened his eyes. The previous unresponsiveness from the king made Oin bustle about in a worried manner, mumbling to himself and shifting through his pack for the right salve for his wounds and bruises. Thorin was quick to his feet after waking, much to Oin's annoyance, insisting he rest. Bilbo was shocked, however, that the first words after waking was about him. Thorin never acknowledged what he said, what he did. The dwarf only acknowledged his failings. The first words were expected, but still stung.

"Did I not say you were unfit for this journey? Did I not say that it was in the better interest of the Company if you did not come?" The icy blue eyes glared at him, stabbing, ripping, freezing...

The polar of Thorin's eyes soon melted, turning back into the warm blue oceans. "Never have I been so wrong about anyone as I have been of you." There were so many unspoken words hanging in the air.

You saved my life.

You stood up against Azog for me.

You were so much more than I thought you would be.

But one thing seemed to say all of those when Thorin tugged Bilbo to him in a strong hug. The hobbit smiled and gave a breathy laugh of surprise. The embrace hardly lasted long enough and soon, Thorin was stepping around him and looking off, his eyes soft.

"There it is." When he spoke, his voice was full of wonder and wish, distant. "The Lonely Mountain."

...

It wasn't until the next morning that the Company descended from the Carrock toward the vast wilderness spread in front of them. The forest seemed infinite in every direction, but this, especially after Azog's attack, proved Thorin to be determined in his task. He walked proudly with Gandalf as the wizard led them deeper into the forest and away from the sanctity of Carrock. Bilbo felt a growing sense of dread, with no sense of where it could possibly have come from. He willed it away again and again. Then he found himself face-to-face with a giant bee. Bilbo stayed completely still, and the bee found itself content to fly around them. He knew Frodo and Bofur knelt nearby because Frodo wouldn't stop talking to him.

"Do you have anything on you that might attract him?" He asked, eyes wide and cautious. Bilbo gave a shaky laugh.

"Is he attracted to corduroy?" He joked lightly, and it made Bofur laugh.

"No, lad. I don't think he is. Maybe it's your hair? Looks a bit like honey..." The miner suggested. "Or just you. Picked any flowers lately?" He smiled then, eyebrows raised. "I'll have you know I'm not interested in ye in that way." Bilbo laughed, wishing he had something to throw at his hatted friend.

"That's a shame." He said. "They were rather beautiful flowers. I picked them with you in mind, Bofur, but if you insist on breaking my heart..." He smirked at Bofur before looking around himself. The bee had flown away.

"Looks like you bored it away." Bofur teased, and Bilbo walked over and took the miner's hat.

"You'll get this back once you learn to behave." He prodded, stepping around so Frodo walked between them.

"'m behaving now!" Bofur mumbled, rather weakly, a begging sorrow overtaking his eyes. Eyes that he did not remove from Bilbo until the hobbit huffed and lobbed the hat back to him. Bofur beamed and caught the hat gracefully, letting out a triumphant laugh. The trio realised then that the group had stopped. Gandalf held up a hand and beckoned the two hobbits forward. They did so hesitantly, stepping around the throng of dwarves.

"Frodo, Bilbo, you'll come with me first, since you are the smallest of the Company. Kíli, Ori, you will come next. Fíli, Nori. Bofur, Bifur. Balin, Gloin. Dwalin, Thorin. Oin, Bombur, you will be last." The wizard nodded. "Please stagger your arrivals, Beorn is easily angered, so Thorin, let Balin or myself do the talking if you may." There was a glint in the wizard's eyes when he turned away and, with both hobbits, took off down the path.

The prospect of Beorn was interesting, and during his own journey, Frodo couldn't help but lament that he would have been an asset, a lot of help against the orcs and uruk-hai. Though, seeing Beorn in person is, admittedly, a lot different from Bilbo's stories. One thing he did get accurate was large. This man, shapeshifter, was roughly five times the size of the hobbits, which may have been an exaggeration, but the point stands. Beorn seemed to be nature himself, and he looked at the trio with amusement.

"You offer a story?" He laughed, glancing at Gandalf. "And you bring a little bunny and a little cub with you? This story you offer had better be a good one, wizard." The look Beorn gave Gandalf was dangerous, but he sat on a bench beside his door and pulled Bilbo to sit next to him, running his fingers through the curls. Gandalf nodded.

"It is, it is. Now how does it begin?" He tapped his jaw a few times. "In a hole in the ground, there live a hobbit..."

...

The dwarves arrived too slowly for Frodo's taste, and by the look in Bilbo's eyes, far too slowly for his tastes as well. When the first few dwarves arrived, Beorn didn't seem to notice, listening closely Gandalf's tale, but as more and more dwarves began filing in, Beorn stood, swooping a yelping Bilbo onto his shoulder.

"What is the meaning of all these dwarves at my house, wizard?" He thundered, and Gandalf simply looked at him with a similarly stormy gaze.

"They need a place to rest and collect themselves before continuing to Mirkwood." He countered, voice calm. Beorn's eyes flashed.

"I understand." He said with a nod. "They may stay here."

Five days. That was how long Beorn would let them stay in his hall. Five more days of Bilbo being called "little bunny" (with no reassurance that the dwarves, namely Bofur, wouldn't pester him about until they get to the Lonely Mountain). He hated the nickname, but in most other ways, Beorn wasn't like Gandalf described. He didn't seem to be angered easily, but he hadn't had a conversation with Thorin yet. That dwarf could infuriate anyone, but from what Bilbo had seen, Beorn would be amused if anything.

They made it to the third day before Beorn finally asked.

"What brings you to Mirkwood, of all places?" He asked, and the air around them seemed to drop. Eyes shifted to Thorin, who once again filled the room. He looked over at Beorn, who leaned forward, intrigued.

"It's a long story," Thorin said, "and one I would not feel comfortable sharing, due to the orcs after us as well."

"Orcs?" The shifter asked, his voice tinted with an amused brand of curiosity. Thorin nodded. The thickness of the air didn't lessen, but still settled heavily on the shoulders of the Company.

On the fourth day, Beorn began to prepare them with food, with Bombur and Frodo keeping close, most likely advising him on proportions- enough to feed dwarves, enough to feed hobbits.

"Can I see your sword?" Bilbo nearly startled off of his seat, heart pounding carelessly in his chest before he looked back and saw Dwalin. For such a loud dwarf, he looked certainly snack up on someone if he wanted to.

"M-my sword? Why?" The hobbit stood gracelessly, willing his heart to calm.

"I would like t' see this that my brother calls a letter opener." Dwalin said, amusement clear. Bilbo reached over and unsheathed the sword from its place on his belt. The dwarf scoffed. "Seems Balin was right. This is tiny." He glanced at Bilbo. "Suits you." Bilbo grew a little indignant then.

"What do you mean it suits me?"

"I didn't mean anything rude by it. The sword's small, you're small. Easy to use. Good for a burglar." He handed the sword back to Bilbo.

"I'll have you know, I'm average-sized for a hobbit."

"Small for a dwarf." Dwalin grinned and gave Bilbo a soft shove.

"I'm not a dwarf." He returned the shove. "I'm a hobbit."

"Ye're a halfling."

"I'm not half of anything." Dwalin looked at him curiously and nodded.

"Keep that mind set, you'll need it."

...

The day they left Beorn's hall, the sky was over cast. Bilbo only noted this because it matched his mood. The dread that had gripped him now multiplied as they started on their way to Mirkwood. He tried to distract himself with the thoughts of his mother's stories, how she had sneaked into the palace and exposed a traitor in the Elvenking's court.

Though Bilbo supposed it hadn't helped his mother's reputation that the traitor who was plotting the assassination was the Elvenqueen. Thousandfold his mother had described the heartbreak in the king's eyes, how they could only love once in their lives, and how the Elvenqueen had loved another before the king, though he had sailed to the Undying Lands. She'd told him of how, in the king's grief, evil had corrupted the Greenwood, and how his mother had been present to see every part of it.

If the Elvenking saw this as something that couldn't be forgiven, even though Belladonna had saved his life, Bilbo couldn't imagine how he would react to him.


	10. Here I Am, Naughty Little Fly

...

The Mirkwood was like something out of a nightmare. Its plants sickly, blue and purple in color. Every step in this Yavanna-forsaken forest made Bilbo's stomach turn and threaten to reject the little food it held. Days melted together and every step they took seemed to show them familiar sights, even though they had followed the road (as far as they could tell) as Beorn directed. The air seemed poisoned, and Bilbo could tell he wasn't the only one affected as he noticed how Frodo seemed to stay near him, his eyes wide and childlike, sometimes clutching his sleeve. Every chance he had, Bilbo relaxed his cousin, even though their nerves were similarly frayed by the forest.

This must have been why his mother left. She couldn't bear the effects of the Elvenking's heartbreak on the forest, soured and rotten as it was. If the forest reflected the king at all, Bilbo wasn't sure if he wanted to meet him.

After a while of wandering- maybe a few days, Bilbo was sure no one could tell- Thorin threw up his hands.

"This is pointless!" He grumbled. "Halflings, one of you, climb a tree and tell us how far we've come and how far we still have." Bilbo sighed, I'm not half of anything.

"Frodo, stay with Dori." He said before turning and hoisting himself into the tree.

When he was a fauntling, Bilbo would love to climb trees, pretending to be with the elves of the Greenwood, scouting the forest for dangers, like dragons. His body didn't seem to have forgotten, so he climbed the tree easily, even though his body protested touching the damned thing. He climbed until he broke through the canopy and reveled at the sunlight that touched his skin and let his joy bubble from him when hundreds of Blue Emperor butterflies took off from the leaves.

Bilbo's joy quickly subsided when he glanced around him and saw the miles of never ending forest still around them. There was no way, he could see, they would make it to the mountain by Durin's Day. With a deep breath, Bilbo descended back down the tree, down to the expectant dwarves. Letting himself down to the ground, he turned to Thorin and shook his head, looking straight into the dwarf's eyes, which seemed to turn a shade darker.

"We'll never get out of this accursed forest." He growled, turning and leading the dwarves down the path once more.

...

Bombur saw the first light. And he paused in the middle of the path, his brother and cousin running into him. Bofur looked at him curiously.

"What is it, Bom?" He asked before lifting his eyes to where his brother stared. "Oh..." His eyes widened. "Thorin! Thorin! You ought to see this!"

That was how Thorin got the brilliant idea to walk off the path and enter the lit clearing. Bilbo, stubborn as he was, refused to leave his place on the path, though his stomach roared at him. It wasn't until the light returned on the other side of the path that Bilbo took his few cautious steps toward it, making himself as small as possible as he approached it. He couldn't help but notice the music and laughter drifting from the clearing.

"Hello?" He called out, and the moment he did all sound vanished. "Hello?" He repeated, his voice small as he could make it before he gave himself a final push, stepping into the light.

Before being swiftly pulled back into darkness. The dwarves were gone, his cousin was gone, and by now, the food and water was gone. He curled up into himself, taking a deep breath. Thus is the journey of Bilbo Baggins of Bag End...

...

A quiet scuttling noise brought him back. Bilbo sat up, ignoring the rush to his head and looked at the forest around him, hearing small songs. Carefully, he unsheathed his sword, rising from the grass and looking around him. He could make out shapes, both large and small in the distance. Slowly, cautiously, carefully, he crept toward the noise, jumping when he felt a hand on his arm.

"It's okay." Came a whispered voice. "It's me." Bilbo let out his breath and slipped beside a crouched Frodo by a bush. "What's the plan?" He asked, and Bilbo shook his head.

"I'm not sure... What happened?"

"Spiders, giant ones. They got the Company after the last light went out. I was able to get away, but they don't really seem to like elvish metal all that much..." He shrugged. "Maybe you could distract them and I'll try to get the dwarves down." Bilbo nodded.

"That could work, perfect..."

...

"Old fat spider spinning in a tree." Bilbo sang, shaking even though he knew they couldn't see him due to the ring he wore. "Old fat spider can't spy me." He bolted to the other side of the clearing, dodging the raging spiders, before singing again. "Attercop! Attercop!" Which was rude and something no Baggins should ever say. "Won't you stop! Stop your spinning and look for me." His heart was racing. This was the most daring thing he'd ever done next to standing up to Azog.

"Old Tomnoddy, all big body! Old Tomnoddy can't spy me!" He honestly couldn't believe he was saying these things. "Attercop! Attercop! Won't you drop! You'll never catch me up your tree!" By now, the spiders' attention was successfully on him, and Frodo was working in the trees at letting down the dwarves. He let out a sigh of relief. It was working. Their plan was working.

"Lazy Lob and Crazy Cob are weaving webs to wind me. I'm far more sweet than any other meat, but still they cannot find me." He nearly laughed at how well he rhymed under pressure. "Here I am! Naughty little fly," admittedly by now, Bilbo had started having a little fun, dancing to his little song, "you are fat and lazy. You'll never trap me, though you try, in your cobwebs, Crazy!"

When he finished his second song, Bilbo was pleased to see that Frodo had let loose all of the dwarves and had dragged them to safety. As fast as he could, Bilbo escaped the spiders, slashing a few that got too close.

"Stinging fly." The songs seemed to hiss at him. Bilbo grinned, it wasn't that bad of a title. He certainly liked it.

He broke through the trees, stumbling onto the path and the waking dwarves and his fussing cousin, who picked a bit of cobweb from his hair.

"How are they?" He asked, shooing away the picking hands and nodding to the dwarves.

"Better." Frodo shrugged. "We're missing one." Bilbo glanced at him; he opened his mouth ready to speak.

"Dwalin!" Ori all but shouted, ripping the web from the tattooed dwarf's clothes. Dwalin swatted him away.

"I'm fine. Don't fuss. I get enough of that from Balin." He scolded lightly, and Ori grinned.

"Good, I'm glad." He gave a sweet smile before leaning a little closer, and Dwalin leaned up a little.

"Oh, no you don't!" Dori, who had just woke up (and the best thing to wake you would be to find your little brother almost kissing someone), reached forward and pulled Ori back at the last second. Dwalin crashed forward, and Ori fell back onto Bombur, who was still out, due to the amount of venom the spiders gave him. Bilbo shook his head in amusement before turning back to Frodo.

"Who's missing?"

"Thorin."

If the Elvenking Thranduil was a dangerous friend, Mahal only knew how dangerous he could be as an enemy. He strutted before his throne, his crown climbing high on his head. The gold and green of his throne room was a happy ignorance of the evil that lurked outside his safe palace. Thorin glared up at him, and the elf returned the menacing gaze.

"Why did you disrupt my people's festival, Thorin Oakenshield?" The Elvenking remained the embodiment of grace as he looked at the dwarf from the corner of his eye.

"Because my people and myself were starving." Was Thorin's answer, looking to Thranduil as if the elf bored him desperately.

"But why did you trespass into my lands?"

"We were starving and looking for food."

"Why have you even come into the forest?"

Now, Thorin remained silent, keeping his eyes on the other king indignantly.

"Ah... Tauriel, escort Thorin Oakenshield to the dungeons until he is prepared to speak and tell me exactly what brings him to my forest." Thranduil said before exiting the room. The auburn-haired guard walked to Thorin.

"This way."


	11. Spring

Being strung up by spiders had to have been one of the more exchangeable moments in Nori's life. He was sure, yes, the spiders were looking forward to eating him, but he was not looking forward to the other way around. He only woke up because of the ruckus Dori and Bilbo were making. One ruckus he actually cared about.

"What do you mean Thorin is gone?" That made Dori, Ori, and Dwalin quiet. A storm seemed to rise in Dwalin's eyes.

"Thorin is gone?" Dwalin echoed. Bilbo fretted as well, pulling at his hair and pacing.

"I didn't find him among you all with the spiders, and believe me, you were spread out." Frodo said, and Nori stretched, letting the webs break and fall.

"Then he got away. Most likely waiting for us outside the forest, the cocky bastard." He commented, cracking his neck.

"What about the elves?" Bilbo asked suddenly, freezing on the path. Those damned words seemed to be the cue because just after Bilbo said them, one of the Mirkwood elves dropped down from the tree. From the corner of his eye, Nori saw Frodo push Bilbo into the bushes and caught a part of what he said.

"-the one with the Ring-"

Four more elves dropped down from the tree, the original nodding to the others while Nori went to Frodo's side. He heard a single word fall from the hobbit's mouth.

"Legolas." He followed Frodo's gaze to the last elf. His eyes were alight with recognition, familiarity. Did Frodo meet this elf when he lost his finger? Did this elf have something to do with it?

"Round them up!" The elf, Legolas, directed the others. "Bring them back and let the king decide what to do with them." The spark of hope that seemed to be present in Frodo's eyes quickly went out. Nori patted his friend's back as they allowed themselves to be taken captive by the elves.

The elven prisons were not like Frodo imagined them to be. They were cavernous, nothing like he'd seen. From his cell, where he sat with Fíli, he could see four other cells and tall columns with decals of ivy. Frodo scoffed. There was no room for friendship in a dungeon. There was only room for darkness.

He'd tried his best to make Sam believe him when he said he couldn't remember those painful moments he spent in Cirith Ungol, but he knew Sam well enough that he didn't buy it. In fact, even here, in the relative safety of the elven prisons, he still remembered it.

He remembered the orcs, cruel as they were he never caught more from them but their greed. Frodo distinctly remembered the two shouting at the other, fighting over the mithril shirt that saved his life in Moria. He remembered the blaring pain of every stroke of the whip. He remembered how the orc would sit over him, knees on either side of his body as they'd let the whip down upon him with a greater force each strike...

He remembered Sam's song and singing along, past the pain of the gash in his side. One that had left a large scar beside his wound from the wraith.

Frodo began to hum, his eyes closed, his head against the stone wall. The song Sam sun, before getting him out of the tower. He curled up into himself, a tear escaping.

"In western lands beneath the Sun..." He sang in a whisper. He was half expecting an orc, and he tensed at the hand on his shoulder.

"Are you alright, Frodo?" He glanced up. He was expecting Sam, wielding Sting, good, loyal, brave Sam. He saw Fíli. Loyal, brave Fíli. He would follow his uncle and brother into certain death. Frodo nodded.

"Only memories." The cell fell quiet as Fíli sat beside him, an arm wrapped around his shoulders supportively.

Frodo understood now, what his uncle had felt so many times in his youth. Fíli was like Merry, and with Kíli he may have been even more so. His heart broke. No wonder Bilbo had nearly crumpled in on himself when he made the mistake.

When Pippin was young and Mister Paladin wanted peace from his constant noise, he would send him to Bilbo. Most parents would, children loved Bilbo and his stories. It was a day when Pippin was five, Merry was thirteen, and Bilbo was at his wit's end. He had left them alone to prepare Luncheon, and while he was in the kitchen, the two knocked down one of his mother's plates.

Frodo was in the kitchen, helping his slowly aging uncle with the cooking. Bilbo had took a deep breath before calling, "Fíli! Kíli!"

He remembered the sorrow and pain that had flashed in his uncle's eyes when he remembered the fates of the dwarf brothers. He felt the darkness of sorrow suffocate his uncle for a moment before he heard his whisper.

"Could you please take care of your cousins?" Bilbo had asked, his voice reflecting his years. "I'll be fine on my own here."

The arm around his shoulders shook him.

"You'll be fine." Fíli said. "The past is the past, and while it may have hurt, in the end they're only memories."

The amount of times Thranduil wished to question Thorin was beginning to become an annoyance to the dwarf. He would be more compliant, he would try to persuade, if Thranduil summoned him less. But no matter how many times he tried, he would never succeed, no matter what he did try.

Thranduil circled him as a predator would circle its prey.

"I ask you one last time," he asked, and Thorin scoffed, this would not be the last time, "what were you trying to achieve by entering my realm? And don't you dare say that it was because you were starving." Thorin, stubborn Durin as he was, stayed silent. Thranduil turned away.

"Well." He hummed, walking back toward his throne. "Then we'll bring up the small one next." The Elvenking gave a grin. "I haven't seen a periannath for years. Perhaps he'll know the last one." He reclined and waved Thorin away.

"Tauriel, if you may."

The red-haired elven guard led him down the hall.

"If it's any reconciliation," she said as she unlocked the door leading to the dungeons, "I'll be sure he doesn't kill any of your companions." Thorin raised an eyebrow.

"And why should I trust you?"

"I spoke against keeping you and your Company here." She said as she opened the door. Thorin thought about it for a moment, unsure what to make of this.

"Why?"

"Though he is my king, I believe Thranduil has been broken and quick to anger ever since the banishment of his wife. He has no right to hold you here because of pride. It is unjust. But I do hope my promise eases your hours, Thorin Oakenshield." She nodded and worked to unlock his own cell. They did not exchange another word while Tauriel was there.


	12. Rings For The Elven Kings

Bilbo followed the elves. On one hand, he was relieved they were close to the palace. On the other, he was panicking because his friends were kidnapped. Though, he didn't have to worry about that nasty business himself because of his magical ring that turned him invisible, he still fretted over the Company.

The first day in the Elvenking's palace seemed to be a blur. The arrival and following them to the prisons so he knew where they were. Trying to find himself some food and water and perhaps a place to sleep. Compared to the others days he experienced, it would have been easy for him to forget it.

The second day, Bilbo stayed in the shadows of the throne room. He watched as they brought in Thorin countless times, but the dwarf's resolve never faltered. At the end of the second day, it was obvious that the Elvenking was growing bored of Thorin, and Bilbo felt his heart drop when the words passed the king's lips.

"Then we'll bring up the small one next." He'd said, and Bilbo felt a choke of fear. Frodo. He stood frozen as the red-haired guard escorted Thorin back to the dungeons. His eyes were locked on the far hallway, expecting the guard to return at any moment, Frodo with her.

"Come out then, I haven't got all night." Bilbo startled and cast his gaze back to the Elvenking. The elf was beckoning to him. "Step out of the shadows, little one." The hobbit took a deep breath before removing the ring and taking a step forward. The king's smile grew prideful as Bilbo stepped before him.

"You look like her." The king mused, sitting forward in his throne. "Same color hair, same nose. Do you know Belladonna Took, periannath?" Bilbo nodded hesitantly, and the king's brows shot up. "What has become of her then? She told me she would return, yet she has not." Bilbo looked away from the king.

"She journeys in the fields of Yavanna." He said softly. The king frowned.

"Pity. She was a good woman. And how might you have known her?"

"She was my mother." Bilbo kept his gaze away from the elf, who clicked his tongue.

"I'm sorry for your loss." He said, tilting his head to the side. "You must have heard the stories then, of her adventure here in the Greenwood. Though others prefer Mirkwood to its real name. Did your mother tell you what happened?" Bilbo nodded, taking a breath.

"She told me that your wife tried to kill you, or had a plot to kill you, so she could take the throne for herself. She was going to call it an accident, but my mother found out about the plot and told you and your guards. Your guards and my mother advised you to banish her, so she couldn't try to kill you again, and you sent her away. I don't recall where... My mother always talked about how heartbroken you were afterwards, and I didn't realise what she meant until I saw how she was after my father died." Bilbo paused, meeting the Elvenking's eyes. "If it's any condolence of what happened, you have my sincere apology in regards to the state of your kingdom and your heart." The king gave a nod.

"I accept your apology, periannath. You and yours will always be welcome in my halls." He said, and Bilbo cleared his throat.

"That is actually what I should speak to you about." He said, shifting. "You see, my cousin is actually in your prisons, so if you would be so kind as to let him out... Along with the thirteen dwarves..." The king rose an eyebrow.

"The periannath in the dungeons will be let out, but I'm afraid I can't do the same with the dwarves until they tell me what it is they're trying to accomplish."

Bilbo sighed, and the Elvenking reached forward and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"I know that the dwarves view me as an enemy, but I am not, son of Belladonna. I only do what is best for my people." He said, and Bilbo nodded.

"And what would I do if I told you what you wish to know? What would you demand?" He looked into the Elvenking's eyes again and watched them light with an unrecognizable expression.

"I only wish for what is rightly mine, as does Thorin, I'm sure." He reclined. Bilbo raised a brow.

"And what is it you deem rightly yours?"

The Elvenking laughed humorlessly. "We're getting off topic... But if you must know, it's only a few jewels, baubles really, worthless things. Though I do believe we were discussing getting your dwarf... whatever they are to you, discussing getting them free with a safe escort to Laketown, yes?"

"If that's what you believe we were discussing, then absolutely. Who would you send on this escort, good king?" Bilbo could almost laugh. So desperately had this great Elvenking changed the subject. But he wouldn't argue, an escort was an escort and better than the plan he was formulating, complete with barrels.

"My best fighters, I promise you, Master Periannath. I shall send with you even the captain of my guard." The Elvenking smiled and stood. "But before I contact my guards and inform them to let the prisoners go, you must be starving. Come with me. You shall have the greatest feast you'd ever laid eyes upon. Your companions will join you soon."

Free. How marvelously glorious that word was. Nori grinned when the key turned in the lock. He always loved this moment, taking the first step out of the cell and taking a deep breath. He stretched his legs and arms before reaching out and grabbing the elven guard's arm.

"Alright," Nori said with a grin, "I believe I was summoned by the Elvish king?" The elf scowled at him, blinking, then pulled his arm from Nori's grasp.

"Just follow me." He muttered. Nori grinned and reached out to Ori, who he had shared his cell with.

"Come, nadadith." He said triumphantly. "Tonight, we feast." Ori very openly rolled his eyes, but stepped in front of him and followed the guard. Nori and Ori were the last two of the Company to be let out, due to the fact that their cell was on the second level and at the end of the row. Ori and Nori followed the guard through the halls, and Nori knew that if he could see Ori's eyes, they would be alight with curiosity at the elvish architecture. He chuckled. In many ways, he knew, his brother had the enthusiasm and curiosity he'd seen before in Bilbo and Frodo when they had been in Rivendell. He remembered it, the way Bilbo's eyes had lit up when they passed the library and the way Frodo looked on with fond eyes when he and Nori passed by the shattered sword on their second day.

"Do you know the story about that, Nori?" Frodo had said, looking to the blade with a smile. "They said it was Isildur's. The very blade that cut off Sauron's finger." Nori had nodded.

"It killed him." He'd said, but he remembered how Frodo had shook his head, lips pursed, blue eyes fixed on the blade.

"No." He'd said. "The sword didn't kill him. Isildur may have destroyed his physical form, but I believe his spirit endures. I believe he is the reason for the growing darkness. He'd be powerful with everything around him. Weak Steward in Gondor. Dragon in Erebor. Corruption in the Greenwood. No, Nori. The sword didn't kill him. It only weakened him."

He felt a chill run down his spine as he remembered the haunted expression in Frodo's eyes. Nori had wanted to ask him, wanted his curiosity to get the better of him. He wanted to ask him why, but the ghost was blinked away and Frodo smiled again.

The dwarf sighed. It wasn't healthy for Frodo to avoid it. It wasn't healthy for him to push it back and away out of sight. Nori wouldn't bring it forward. The haunt of those blue eyes was not something he wanted to see again. He didn't want to see Frodo revert to the dark clouds and abysses of wherever those thoughts had come from.

However, upon entering the feasting room of Thranduil's palace, Nori almost burst out laughing when he saw Bilbo sitting beside Thranduil with a grin on his face while the elf spoke, his gestures grand. He restrained himself and sat beside Frodo, but was pulled away before he got a single word in. When he glanced back, Ori had taken the seat next to him. Nori smirked, he'd have to have a few words with Dori later.

When he turned back, he was pulled into an alcove and found himself facing Thorin.

"So what did you find?" The raven-haired dwarf demanded. Nori gave him a look, one that blatantly asked what he thought he was doing. If he thought discovering information was easy.

"Well, what do you want to know? He favors his blue shirt over his grey one. He has a certain fondness for potatoes..." He looked into Thorin's eyes. "What? If you would just pay attention and quit brooding so much, you would actually notice these things." He got a glare for the comment.

"Just tell me. Why did he decide to come with us? Why has he always looked so travel worn?" Thorin pressed. Nori shook his head.

"I'm sure he has good reasons, and if I knew them, which I don't, I wouldn't deem... no, I wouldn't deem you important enough to hear them." Nori departed quickly after that, taking a seat next to Balin, as to not endure the wrath of Thorin.

The next day, Thranduil sent them on their way with a grin that resembled Kíli's in a way. A few elves, including the red-haired guard, Tauriel, and the one who led them from the dungeons, were sent with them as their escort. Why the halfling thought they needed an escort was beyond Thorin, he knew they could do well on their own, but as they walked and the elves talked about Laketown, Thorin realised how much he would admittedly dislike this "Master" who, in talk, was painted as a greedy coward who did not deserve his title. At that moment, Thorin wanted nothing more than to speak to the man, insult him without the "Master" being aware. Perhaps even under his breath. Though Thorin had never been quite one for diplomacy, as the halfling had proved himself to be in Thranduil's halls, he was certain if, and only if, the Master was truly as dimwitted as they all claimed, he'd have no problem insulting him to his face.

Thorin had a lifetime of experience with greedy men, in the human towns he'd find himself working in so Dís and his nephews could eat, and he would have no problem standing against this Master. If it ever came to that.

When he had asked, the Elvenking had answered. Bilbo didn't know why. Perhaps it was because he reminded him of Belladonna, who in turn reminded him of better times when he still had his wife. During the feast, Bilbo had turned to Thranduil and asked him,

"How did the Greenwood get this way?" The king had turned to him, a small smile.

"Have you ever heard the old song? About the Rings of Power gifted to each the Elves, Dwarves, and Men? You see, dear periannath, my father was gifted an elven ring. I then inherited it when he decided to sail to Valinor, and my own son will inherit it when I decide to sail. This Ring determines the... penetrability of my kingdom. When I, or any wearer, am weak, so is the kingdom. Soon after your mother's departure, I had begun to grow weak and the borders of the Greenwood became open to corruption. The first few months, we'd begun losing soldiers in the forest, then we learned the best way to fight the spiders." The king had sighed. "There is an ancient evil deep within that forest, I can feel it in every moment. If you ever do return to the Greenwood, Periannath, I bid you, be careful."

Now that Bilbo was with the others, he preferred to walk with the red-haired elf, Tauriel, she said her name was, and chose to ask her about Laketown. He was undeniably amused by Tauriel's description of the Master, though that amusement quickly faded when he went on to describe the state of the town and the wellbeing of its inhabitants. She'd been disgusted by the poverty the people lived in while the Master lived in comforts and riches. Rightly so, Bilbo agreed with Tauriel with every ounce of his being. Cowering among riches was the mark of a fool.

"We'll rest here for the night and continue on in the morning!"

It had been late, Frodo admitted to himself when they left Thranduil's halls, and they had journeyed long before the elves allowed them to stop. With a deep breath, Frodo had allowed himself comfort in the fact that everyone was together. That he didn't have to experience that dreadful barrel ride down the Forest River. He knew it was dreadful because of his uncle's take. How he'd been tossed as he clutched onto a dwarf's- Thorin's- barrel. Frodo smiled as he looked into the distance. Erebor was so close.

At this exact moment, his mind had supplied him with previously forgotten details. Gold-sickness, Thorin threatening Bilbo. Frodo sighed and sat on the ground, putting his head in his hands. He should have thought of that. Before starting those stupid betting pools and giving dwarves reason to meddle. Thorin was going to go crazy, and he was going to try to hurt Bilbo. He couldn't stop that.

Unless-

Unless he comes up with a plan.

Frodo was going to need to brush up on his burglary skills.


	13. A Town On A Lake

When they arrived in Laketown and Frodo saw Nori's scowl, he smirked and nudged his friend. The dwarf pursed his lips and shook his head.

"I don't like this." He said, his eyes fixed on the wooden walkways. The dwarf had his arms spread as if to steady himself as the elves led the. Frodo shook his head.

"There's nothing to worry about, Nori, you're just overreacting." He said, and Nori scoffed as he grabbed Frodo's sleeve.

"Overreacting? Sure, but you won't call it that when the supports of this town rot, and we're taking a nice little swim." The dwarf shook his head. "I don't like this. I don't like this at all." Frodo chuckled and rolled his eyes.

"Nori, it'll be alright..." He tried to calm, but Nori shook his head. "I'll stay with you as much as I can, okay?" The dwarf sighed and held out a hand, which Frodo took, hushing the dwarf as they steadily walked to the Master's tall home in the center of Esgaroth. The single building towered over the others but had the same mask of illness. Frodo looked up at the creaking building cautiously and got a tug at his sleeve from Nori.

"Told you."

Frodo shot him a glare before following the others into the building.

From what he could remember, the days in Laketown were good. They would be fed, outfitted, celebrated. All would be well before they continued on and faced Smaug. He hoped this would still be true, even after everything that has been changed in the way it has. It couldn't be him that changed it, his presence. There had to have been something much bigger than that at work.

Frodo shook his head and focused on the Master's home. They room they had entered was expansive with rows of long tables and stairs at the end. In all of his uncle's stories, Frodo never imagined it to be like this.

"All of you," the Master of Laketown said, waving them off, "be comfortable, relax before it is your time to depart. I have... matters... to attend to." Nori shoved him a little with a smirk as the Master walked off with his mono-browed companion.

"They must be some interesting matters, don't you think, Frodo?" Nori whispered. Frodo, in turn, shook his head.

"Whatever you're thinking. Don't do it."

Nori, of course, did not take heed to Frodo's direction- a suggestion, he called it- and slowly crept along after the Master, hoping to learn whatever it is he wanted to keep from the Company. He wanted to know why the Master had hesitated, and while he had never before done this to quench his own curiosity, it felt good to do something for himself.

He suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder. He'd been caught. Cautiously, carefully, he glanced back and felt all the weight and tension that coiled in his body upon enchanting the illusion that he was caught disappear, and he let out a sigh of relief.

"So, Thorin was curious as well?" He whispered. Honestly, Nori wasn't really surprised by the fact that Thorin would be so curious as to send the Company's burglar to spy on the Master's dealing. Bilbo nodded quickly, eyes fixed ahead on the dimly lit room the Master and his mole of a henchman entered. Nori and Bilbo, keeping to the shadows, tiptoed through the hall and glimpsed into the room, where the Master now sat in a wooden chair in front of a man who's wrists and ankles were tied and his mouth gagged.

"Well, Bard," the Master began, almost tiredly, "I'm going to ask you again what you could have possibly been thinking by bringing unauthorized food into my town and you're going to say that you won't do it again and that you're sorry, alright?" In the shadows, Nori felt the rising urge to step forward and hit the Master. But refrained himself as the cloth was removed from the man's- Bard's- mouth.

Nori knew what it was like to want. Want food. Want comfort. Want simple luxuries. And to see this man purposefully deprave his people of it. Well. That was not the mark of a good leader at all.

But the man on the floor. Perhaps he understood Nori. He'd risked his own life, his own honor, to bring "unauthorized food" to the people in this town, and Nori could see the feeling of the room change when the man spoke.

"Do you not care for the wellbeing of your own people, Master?" Bard spit out the last word as if it were poison on his tongue. "No food that enters Laketown should be unauthorized. There are people starving in your city. What do you do about it? You sit back, enjoying the unauthorized food, kidnapping citizens, kidnapping fathers when they decide to do something to help their neighbors. I will not apologize to you. I refuse to."

There was something, perhaps the genuine concern for his people or perhaps something else, that drew Nori to Bard's case. If there were people starving. Hell, if there were people wanting anything. They deserved a better leader. They did not deserve this Master. What good man would elect to call himself Master anyway? These people deserved Bard.

The next moment, Nori's mind reeled as he was pulled backwards and turned to face the Master's minion. He felt a shaking hand on his sleeve and allowed himself to be dragged from the hallway and into the room with Bard and the Master. Nori cast a stern look at the Master, meeting his eyes. Showing no weakness to his enemy.

Bilbo, on the other hand, was internally panicking. Never had he been or wanted to be in this situation. This time, though, he had been in the wrong. In his position, a spy, it felt best to restrain from looking at either the Master of Laketown or Alfrid. Instead, he cast a worried glance to Nori, deciding to keep his eyes fixed on the only one there he trusted.

"What's this?" The Master asked dryly. "Two of our honored guests? To what do we owe this pleasure?" With the panic surging through his being, Bilbo took a small step back, eyes darting to the floor. One of the last couple times he'd been caught practicing his burglary skill, he'd been sneezed on by a troll, and while that had been the worst of it, Bilbo could only admit one thing.

He was a terrible burglar.

This time, he'd thought he'd been alright. Nori was there. Nori, the great thief, if his boasting was to be believed. He never thought he would have gotten caught. How the Valar loved to prove him wrong.

The Master scrutinized the both of them, and Bilbo tried to withhold his disdain when Alfrid pulled him back forward.

"I would have never though," the Master said, standing, "that the oafish dwarf king decided that the two of you were his best spies." He turned to Bard and smirked. "Can you believe him?" The Master asked with obviously false amusement. "The child and the useless criminal." Beside him, Bilbo knew by now that Nori may lash out, but a quick glance saw that it wouldn't happen. Nori was like steel, immobile. His expression solid unemotional lines.

"Well," Bilbo spoke up then, his voice shaky, as he let his eyes wander back to the Master, "we are fairly inconspicuous... We're the only two who can go about silently... But... Thorin didn't send us. We came because we wanted to. Because we were curious. Blame us. Not Thorin." Bilbo knew it wasn't entirely a lie. Thorin didn't send Nori. Nori was curious. The Master seemed to pause, considering his words.

"Then don't do it again. And never speak of this to anyone." The Master turned to Alfrid. "If you would take them back to the hall." Bilbo was pulled then from the room, glancing back to witness the Master taking a step closer to Bard.

Something twinged in his chest.

He couldn't keep watching, to see what would happen, as Alfrid had turned a corner in the hall and all sight at that the Master did was lost.

...

It was getting closer to night when Bilbo finally took a deep breath and knocked a few times on the door of the room granted for Thorin to use. He was expecting a shouted "Come in" or "Enter" but instead he was greeted with Thorin opening the door and nodding him in. With another deep breath, Bilbo walked in, stopping at the center of the room. He waited until the door closed before he spoke.

"It really wasn't your concern." He said. "Unless you wanted to think less of the Master than you already do." Thorin's eyes were fixed on him, and the dwarf stepped forward.

"I'd be surprised if that were possible." Thorin replied in a low rumble. "What happened?" After yet another deep breath, Bilbo retold the events. Bard, the "unauthorized food", and their inevitable discovery. The moment he'd mentioned it, Thorin had looked almost concerned, taking another step forward and placing both hands on Bilbo's arms.

"Are you alright?" His eyes searched for a wound, and Bilbo was sure Thorin almost missed his nod.

"I'm fine. Apart from bringing us into the room and taking us out, they didn't touch us." Bilbo quickly explained. Even though relaxed, Thorin didn't move away.

"Thank you." He said after a few moments of silence. In return, Bilbo gave a small smile.

"It's alright. It was worth it." He said softly, before he felt his heart freeze.

Had he really just said that out loud?

He stood still under the intensity of Thorin's gaze, eyes fixed on the dwarf and breath coming shallowly.

Thorin smiled.

"I'm glad you think so." He said before and gently brushing his lips against Bilbo's.


	14. I Would Follow You

The kiss started out as a soft brush, one that had Bilbo surging forward as he closed his eyes and felt the world falling away. All he felt was Thorin, all he knew in that moment was Thorin. His hands on Bilbo's arms but slowly moving to his back. Thorin moved down, deepening the kiss, while Bilbo moved up, onto his toes. Thorin's arms encased him, pulling him closer. Everywhere they touched, Thorin's arms around him, Bilbo's hand gently settled between them on Thorin's chest. He could feel Thorin's heart beating, his own in time with it. He knew, clear and always, that this was what was right.

He wouldn't have called it a whine, the small noise he made when Thorin broke the kiss and his eyes fluttered open, but Thorin's arching brow told him that the dwarf obviously qualified it as one. The smile Thorin also wore was enough to tell Bilbo that he didn't mind. Thorin shifted first, not moving away but reaching up and caressing Bilbo's cheek. He couldn't help but lean into the touch. Thorin's hand was rough and calloused, but it was him. It held his past and told his story. Bilbo closed his eyes yet again and put his own hand over Thorin's.

"Bilbo." Thorin's voice comfortably rumbled through him, and he opened his eyes once again, meeting Thorin's. Thorin's pupils were wide. He looked fierce, like an animal that would attack. Bilbo decided that he wouldn't really mind if this animal did.

"What?"

Thorin stayed silent for a moment, keeping his eyes fixed on Bilbo's, as if trying to read him, before stepping back, a force that seemed to cause all the warmth and comfort in Bilbo's body to rush away with him, and retreating back to the door, opening it.

"Nothing..." He'd cast his eyes away, looking to the floor as if he were ashamed and exited, closing the door behind him.

Bilbo stood for a moment, looking in confusion to where Thorin once stood. He sighed and crossed his arms over his chest. Where his heart soared during their kiss, it now sank. He couldn't help but wonder, what were they now? They'd barely been friends. Bilbo used to be so sure that Thorin hated him.

Next thing he'd hear was that Frodo wasn't really his cousin.

It wasn't the greatest decision, Thorin concurred, to leave so quickly after their kiss, but the dwarf was sure that anything could happen now. He'd accepted it, what he was feeling since first looking at the halfling. That feeling that Dwalin, of all the Company members, had picked up on.

And now Thorin needed advice. As he hurried down to the -gratefully open- bar and pulled the warrior aside, gesturing for a drink for the both of them. Dwalin raised a brow, watching him curiously, as Thorin distanced him from the Company, after they'd both gotten their tankards of ale, of course.

"I don't know what to do." Thorin admitted, which made Dwalin's raised brow seem to raise more.

"What'd ya do?"

Thorin glared at him for a moment. "I'm not my nephews, Dwalin." He said. "And I'm sure I don't have to threaten anything of you to not say anything." Dwalin smirked and leaned against the wall.

"Y'know. Last time you did this, Thorin, we were in our sixties, and you thought you'd found your Sanzueh. If this is anything like-"

"And if I'm sure about it? Dwalin. I'm sure of it. I found him. I've kissed him. I... Damn it, I was confused, and I'm sure he's confused and-"

Dwalin held up a hand. "Who do you think it is now?" He asked and Thorin took a breath.

"... Bilbo." He muttered, and the warrior threw back his head and laughed, clapping Thorin on his shoulder.

"What did I tell you? Back in Rivendell. What did I tell you?" Dwalin said between laughs. "Called it. Even back then when you acted like you hated the little guy!" Thorin glared at him. "He's a lucky hobbit, he is. What did you do?"

Thorin sighed. "I left him in my room." He said, and Dwalin rolled his eyes and turned away.

"I'll go see if he's still there because you two need to actually talk." He then walked away and continued up the stairs.

Thorin took a long swig of his drink. He agreed. He'd been stupid, and if Bilbo did ever forgive him, he wouldn't deserve it.

Frodo had a mission. Frodo, actually, had a lot of missions, most of which would have to wait for some time to complete, but this one current mission was necessary. He had to make sure Bard the Bowman would be ready for Smaug. While he didn't want all the innocent people to die, they had no way of defeating Smaug otherwise.

He passed again through the streets of Laketown, looking down each path and alleyway with purpose. It didn't take very long before he paused to ask a woman who was outside where Bard lived. She looked at him skeptically for a moment before pointing him the right way. It only took a few more minutes to reach Bard's house, and he knocked.

"Hey!" He heard from behind him, and he glanced back. Upon seeing who it was, Frodo grinned and waved Bilbo over. "What are you doing?"

"I need to speak with the man who lives here." He answered, giving a brief smile before turning back to the door. It was then that it was opened by a young girl. Frodo smiled and folded his arms behind him.

"Hello." He began. "Is... um... Is your father here?" The girl looked between them.

"Are you Bain's friends?" She asked. Frodo and Bilbo exchanged glances.

"No. I just need to talk to your father." Frodo said, and the girl looked behind her.

"He's asleep," she said then, rather quickly, "sorry."

He nodded. "Alright then. Thank you. When he wakes up, could you tell him that someone's looking for him?" He asked, and the girl nodded. "Thank you again..." Frodo began to turn before he stopped himself. "What day is it?"

"September 22nd."

He smiled and nodded again. "Thank you yet again." He turned then and went down the stairs, with Bilbo following, and headed back to the large house in the center. Part way through their walk, Frodo glanced over to his uncle.

"I know no one else is going to say this, so... Happy birthday, Bilbo."

Bilbo beamed and looked at Frodo. "Fifty one. I'm sure the Sackville-Bagginses are particularly seething at the lack of presents from me." Frodo laughed.

"It must be horrible," he said, "actually being related to them." Bilbo shrugged.

"Otho isn't that bad when Lobelia isn't around. Good fun to fish with. Lobelia, though. I'm sure you've met Lobelia." He said, and Frodo nodded.

"Yes. I've met her. My uncle can't seem to shake her." He laughed, and Bilbo joined in.

"Your uncle and I have found ourselves in similar situations." He said. Frodo nodded.

More than you know. "From what I've heard, you've got it worse. What, with her wanting your smial and all that."

Bilbo sighed and shook his head. "Yes, well. I don't blame her for that. It is a beautiful smial."


	15. If There's A Key

The following days spent at Laketown passed in a blur, especially for Nori, who lost track of just who he had spoken to and how many drinks he and Bofur had downed. He knew, throughout the stay, how he would look to the horizon and see the Lonely Mountain, remember the stories his mother used to get them to sleep, and he really ever wanted one thing above all, to see it. The Master allowed them five boats, which worked fairly well, since each held three of the Company. Nori found himself in a boat with Kíli and Frodo. Kíli seemed to be content with fixing up his bow while Frodo watched the Mountain come closer with each rise and fall of the oar.

Then came a gasp from Kíli and both Nori's and Frodo's gaze fixed on him. He was staring, open-mouthed, at Frodo's missing finger.

"I take back every time I ever said hobbits weren't bad ass." He said. "How did that happen?" Frodo smirked.

"Do you want what really happened or the version I plan to tell my relatives?" He asked with a bit of a laugh in his voice. Kíli's eyes lit up.

"What really happened?"

Frodo took a deep breath. "I was climbing a volcano with my gardener and an imp we found along the way. I ended up fighting with him, the imp, and he bit my finger off." Kíli and Nori looked at him for a moment.

"What were you going to tell family?"

With a grin, Frodo looked down at his hand, inspecting the missing finger his grin shifting to an analytic expression.

"Oh, that?" He said. "I didn't even notice." Kíli laughed, tipping the boat a little and earning a few worried glances from the others. Frodo and Nori grinned at the young prince, but Nori was still curious. The actual story was far too extremely vague, and while Frodo most likely had a very good reason for it to be, Nori was curious.

The boats reached the shore fairly quickly, one after another joined them, and the first few of the Company to set foot first on the desolation were Thorin, Fíli, and Bilbo, since their boat was first. Fíli looked up at the Mountain, a smile forming.

"Uncle." He said in awe. "Just imagine how it could be in a few years." Thorin walked up beside him.

"You should have seen how it was when I was young. You would have been impressed. We'll restore it to that, and then I want you to stand here and look at Erebor. Look at your hard work."

Fíli grinned. "I'm excited for that." He said with a nod. "It can only get better."

...

They set up a temporary camp in the ruins of Dale. The destroyed stone buildings were weathered but on a few of the scattered pieces, one could still see the black markings of flame.

Fíli had nothing to brood about. He hadn't even been alive when Dale had been in its heights, but he couldn't help but mourn. Not only for the people who had been lost, but the kingdom. Maybe it was his lifelong schooling speaking, teaching him to be a king, but every time he looked at the ruins, of either Erebor or Dale, he could see what he hoped they would become.

What he would make them become.

He was confident in his ability as king, and his uncle before him.

With the Line of Durin under the mountain, nothing would ever dare stand in their way.

"Fí!"

Fíli grinned and looked over his shoulder where Kíli was coming up, dragging Frodo with him.

"Fí. Look!" Kíli pulled an unresisting Frodo forward and held the hobbit's left hand in Fíli's face. In turn, Fíli raised a brow and shoved the hand away.

"What am I looking at?"

"His ring finger."

Fíli shrugged. "It's not like he was hiding it, Kí. It's pretty easy to notice that it's not there." Kíli only looked at him for a moment.

"So everyone else already noticed and no one told me?"

"Maybe because they thought you already noticed." Fíli shrugged and gave his brother a look. "Do you want to let the poor hobbit go and we can all look for the door?" Kíli nodded and let go of Frodo's wrist. "Sorry about that." Frodo shrugged. "Nothing to worry about."

...

They were already in front of the door, watching it intently, when the sun started to set. That was when the dwarves started to panic, striking at the door with a force that could wake a dragon.

Frodo sighed in exasperation, sitting on the ledge and putting his head in his hands. He remembered this. And he remembered that no amount of force would help.

Each strike grew heavier, louder.

"Stop." Frodo said, raising his voice so they could hear him. "I thought we were trying not to wake the dragon!"

"He's right." Nori said from within the throng, stepping away from the others. "He's right. If Smaug's in there, he can hear us. We need to keep our heads."

The strikes slowly stopped falling, and the dwarves involved in the violent horde stood silently.

"And you probably scared the thrush away, too." Bilbo said. "The last light of Durin's day would show the key hole, correct?" There were a few nods from the dwarves, and Bilbo looked over his shoulder to where the sun was now sinking behind the mountains in the distance. "Well, we all know the last light of the day doesn't come from the sun, strictly speaking."

Thorin understood first, eyes widening and grip on the key tightening. "The light of the moon."

Bofur grinned and shoved Bilbo playfully. "How long have you been keeping that one from us?"

Bilbo shrugged. "Not very long, don't worry."

The dwarves took a step away from the door and waited.

The thrush flew and settled on a rock, striking a nut against it.

It was then the white beams of the moon shifted through the crowd of dwarves and shined on the door.

The reaction was immediate. The dwarves cheered as Thorin stepped forward and slid the key into the lock.


End file.
